


Mathematical Fire and Literary Ice

by twinkcester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Arguing, Bickering, Fighting, High School AU, J2 AU, M/M, Teacher AU, Teachers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkcester/pseuds/twinkcester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki is a dramatic, temper-driven high school math teacher and his colleague is the insufferable, perpetually-calm ice queen: Jensen Ackles. Their differing departments don't make their encounters mandatory, but they make sure to get under each other's skin just enough for continuous frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and revised thanks to beyond helpful beta Patti c:.

  


Dress shoes had never slapped high school carpeting so furiously.

Jared wished he had on louder shoes like the boots he wore on the weekends, or that the floor was something harder like the wood in the gym. Anything to express his white hot rage to Ridgecrest High's residing idiot, Jensen Ackles.

"Where do you get off?" he bellowed into the aforementioned idiot's classroom, rounding the corner and taking up all the space in the doorway. His chest heaved under the button down and geometric tie, and his shoulders were drawn up into total rigid tension. Fists were clenched until nails dug into his palms. Despite the visible signs, he felt like his anger wasn't coming across quite as intense as he was actually experiencing it.

Jensen sat behind his desk, in what Jared thought was only slightly better than the desks of his most disorganized students. Stacks of papers and books lay scattered across the desktop, and Jared wondered how the students could take anything this man said seriously. Jensen's eyes stayed fixed through thick lenses and silver rims on an essay he held in one hand and a red pen he flicked around with the other. "My bedroom, usually," he answered casually. "Occasionally I venture elsewhere. Maybe an inappropriate question for school hours, though."

Jared hissed out a sigh of annoyance. "You know damn well what I mean," he spat, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

Jensen finally let his gaze flicker up to the hulking ball of muscle and fury 15 feet from him. Imagining Jared green with purple shorts had him smiling with vague amusement. Still, he didn't comment on the apparent irritation. "I could've had a class right now," he remarked.

Jared scoffed, eyes rolling before he had time to fully absorb Jensen's reply. "I know your schedule," he explained reluctantly.

"You do?" Jensen asked, eyebrow quirked in interest.

"Oh, get over yourself," Jared said. "I can hear your stupid debates through the floor.”

Chuckling, Jensen stood up from his desk. Jared's stance, originally one intended for intimidation, had sunk into the awkward position of confusion as was customary when exposed to Jensen's eerily perfect composure.

"What are you mad about this time?"

It was Jared's turn to chuckle, a laugh loud and acidic. "How could you not know?"

"This isn't about when I tried to get you fired, is it?" Jensen asked tiredly, pushing his glasses up the crooked bridge of his nose and rubbing the marks the placeholders left.

“Tried to get me fired?!" Jared repeated, eyebrows shooting up in concern.

"Oh. Okay, good. It's not that then. Is it-"

Jared cut him off with a clearing of the throat. "How about I tell you, since I don't have time for games?" He stepped forward enough to be in the classroom, taking up space like Jensen's antics took up valuable space in his mind. Idiot.

Jensen blinked noticeably, surprised at getting cut off but adapting quickly. "Be my guest," he invited with a hint of sarcasm.

"I had Colin last block-"

"Colin Ford?"

"No, Colin Farrell."

"I have multiple students named Colin."

Jared sighed again. His hand flew to his neck, fruitlessly trying to work out the frustrated kink there. "That's not the point. Yes, Ford. The student we both have. Your 7th period English GT student. Named Colin Ford."

"Got it," Jensen nodded, smile teasing at the corner of his lips.

"He says you were slamming math in this joke you call a class."

Jensen nodded thoughtfully. "Were those his words, or did you put your own… colloquial spin on it?"

Jared grinned in spite, tilting his head to the side in a shrug. "English isn't that hard, Ackles."

"Ah, so they were your words," Jensen laughed cooly. "Thank goodness. I thought I needed to have a talk with Mr. Ford about language. It can make you sound like an ignorant math teacher if you're not careful." He looked Jared over twice, up and down the (pretty vast) expanse he covered. "You're not careful, are you?"

"You little fu-"

"Mr. Ackles? I've got my pa- oh, damn." Colin rounded the corner with a look of enthusiasm that slid into panic when he saw both of his teachers in the classroom.

"Language, Colin." The reprimand was simultaneous from the mouths of both teachers, and they turned to glare towards each other once the words were out. Jared's look contained nothing but pure fiery temper and Jensen's an icy disdain.

"Sorry," Colin apologized quietly, biting his bottom lip to conceal a laugh. "Um, I just have my paper. I know it's due tomorrow, but I finished it in study hall and I know I'll lose it if I keep it, so…" He feebly held up a few sheets of printed writing. "Can I turn it in?"

Jensen nodded and held up his hand to accept the paper. "What AP score is this paper?"

"Hopefully a perfect nine," Colin tittering in attempt to calm his nerves. The laugh stopped abruptly when his eyes flickered over to an agitated Mr. Padalecki. "The hall monitor is gonna yell if I stay too long, so. I'm gonna go." He was inching back through the door frame.

"Thank you, Mr. Ford."

Jared scowled once Colin was gone. “Aren’t you gonna say anything about him selling you out?”

“I don’t mind,” Jensen shrugged uninterestedly, turning his back on Jared to return to his papers. “Now, if you have nothing else to a-”

“Hardly,” Jared snapped back, voice harsher than he knew he could manage. “If you’re gonna trash my class behind my back like you’re a high school student instead of a teacher, the least you could do is say something true. Math is useless? Really?”

Jensen whipped back around, nonchalance slipping into a cold and calculated cackle. “I haven’t used any math past a fourth grade level since I graduated. It has no real life application.”

“Maybe that’s because you couldn’t pass math past a fourth grade level.”

Jensen’s mask of serenity dropped for a second and actual anger clouded his expression before he could calm himself. “That’s clever,” he said softly. “You’re a very witty guy, Padalecki.”

Jared’s dimples poked out menacingly. “I thought so,” he laughed, expression twisting in a smirk as if it wasn’t mocking enough already. He was beyond pleased with himself when he caught the hint of temper flaring on Jensen’s face. “But seriously. Math is everywhere. Math is the key to business and art. When was the last time you had to analyze Romeo and Juliet to buy groceries?”

“Romeo and Juliet isn’t that great,” Jensen admitted with the cool demeanor back in place completely.

Jared laughed in triumph. “See!” he said, voice instantly carrying through the door and into the hallway. He covered his mouth with a hand. Rolling his eyes, Jensen ambled over toward Jared to shut the door.

“I can hear you through the ceiling too, y’know,” he laughed in a faint undertone. Jared had to lean in to simply hear what he was saying, and that ticked him off like no other. He had to be doing it on purpose. It was like Jensen thought himself to be a character in a novel like The Great Gatsby. What was her name? The one with a voice like money. Jensen had been talking about her the last time he was in here last week and...

“Goddamnit,” he swore almost inaudibly, thinking it was just in his head. His head was no longer a safe place if these arguments had gotten him to dwell on high school literature in his own head space.

“I get you awfully worked up, don’t I?”

And there it was. The terrible, frigid smirk of superiority. Like he had bested Jared or something. It made Jared want to hit him in the throat with an SUV if he was being totally honest. He wasn’t one for tact.

“Maybe you should focus on working at your actual job,” Jared suggested heatedly, seething under his near-permanent scowl. “You know, instead of getting me awfully worked up.”

Jensen’s emotional expression flashed two shades of red past its usual frosty blue. “Are you saying I’m bad at my job?” he growled dangerously. Stepping into Jared’s personal space, he drew up his own shoulders. Jared may have been taller, but Jensen was pissed. Jared just laughed bitterly in reply. “Get out of my classroom,” he hissed, venom injected into the sound enough to give even Jared a chill.

Jared did leave with a flippant two-fingered salute, opening the door and sliding out with the remains of a grin on his face. He was pretty sure he won. After all, Jensen was the one who had given in and ended the fight with a near rage stroke. As he hiked up the staircase to the math hallway, he couldn’t help but think he hadn’t come out completely intact while the trace of the tremble stayed glued to the base of his spine.


	2. Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen was seriously hurt by Jared's comment about his teaching, but that doesn't mean his payback had to be at all serious.

Jensen was a firm believer that revenge was a dish best served cold. This conviction was the only thing keeping him civil for the next two weeks. In this instance, “civil” was simply defined by a lack of chainsaws or hatchets making contact with Jared’s testicles, and quite honestly consisted mostly of Jensen staying the hell away from the moron.

By the third week of his self-imposed ban on vengeance, he was itching to strike. From years of studying literature, he knew in theory that payback often led to misfortune nothing short of disaster. It was a common motif in classic high school literature, from Shakespeare to F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the stories made it abundantly clear that retribution was a slippery slope. No amount of Romeo and Juliet deaths, however, could tear him away from punishing Jared for long. The dig about his teaching was a knife in his gut and the evil little giggle that followed was a twist into his vitals. It wasn’t like Jared knew why that particular comment was so jarring, but he took a sick satisfaction in it that made Jensen ill. Something about Jared Padalecki just seemed to get under his skin and dig up his calm demeanor like nothing else could.

So here Jensen was, 35 years old, in his classroom on his own lunch break, pulling super glue from a plastic craft store bag to go prank one of his colleagues. A twinge of uncertainty shot through his brain: was this the mature thing to do? After all, as important it was for him to be seen as a good teacher, he was overwhelmingly proud of being better than Jared. The reflection led to a reminder of the insult, a thought that had his blood boiling in a characteristically Jared fashion. It was imperative he eject the feeling from his veins and retaliation seemed like the only viable option.

Shaking the hesitation from his mind, he gingerly lifted the glue off his desk and shoved it into the pocket of his khakis unceremoniously. He was wearing Oxfords with the softest soles he owned; Jared was on lunch break too, probably laughing obnoxiously loud in the teacher’s lounge, but Jensen didn’t want to take any chances. As an added precaution, he had the schedule for the AP testing folded up in his other pocket. If he got caught, he could always ask Jared to help set up a senior prep session with math and English. He prayed vehemently it wouldn’t come to that. He was not remotely looking forward to feigning confusion about something he’d been familiar with for years, much less letting Jared be the one who answered his imaginary question.

He slipped silently up the steps outside his room that led up to the math department, nodding curtly to a student he passed in the halls. His heart thudded and slammed against his ribcage. Jensen had never been one for trouble, had cried when he received his first detention in high school. He wasn’t a rebel by any stretch of the imagination. His heart that thudded when he was nervous broke into pieces when he disappointed authority. Maybe that’s why he was here now. But Jared wasn’t authority, and Jensen definitely wasn’t a coward.

Head on a swivel, he threw quick glances down each side of the hallway before slinking into Jared’s classroom. He leaves the door open just a crack and doesn’t flip the light switch on. Maybe no one will notice he’s in here if anyone goes by. His pulse quickened by the moment as he sunk into Jared’s chair. He sighed in relief. Everything was fine. He was here and Jared wasn’t. Everything was going okay, and the fun part would be totally worth it. Deep breaths.

Jensen removed the glue bottle from his pocket with trembling fingers and untwisted the cap just as ungracefully. Setting the bottle down, he scanned the desk for tape. He slid his drooping glasses back up the ridge of his nose to catch sight of the adhesive more quickly. The dispenser sat just a foot or two from his hand in plain sight. Jared, math teacher that he was, had everything organized on his desk in correct 90 degree angles. The only logical conclusion to come to settled itself in his head where it decisively already laid: Jared was a freak. He took another deep breath, trying to overpower the shallow exhalations that fought to surface, and picked up Jared’s phone. Instantly he had his finger over the disconnect button and taped it down with nimble fingers. Working faster and less nervous, Jensen regained his usual expression and demeanor of unflappability. He coated on layers of glue with the brush at the end of the cap to the handset. He made sure to hold the pieces together on the top halves of the phone instead of the sticky handle. Trying to lift it, he chuckled into his free palm when it was stuck to his satisfaction.

Wow. He really did that. His heart continued to beat wildly as he shoved the glue back into his pocket and crept out of Jared’s room. Giggling in a cross between nervous excitement and nail-biting worry, he nearly lost it when he rounded the corner and smacked right into the obscene broad pack of muscles, otherwise known as Jared Padalecki’s burly chest. Jesus.

The furious eyebrow crease dissolved into an arrogant smirk when Jared noticed it was Jensen barrelling into him, smile growing more conceited when he interpreted Jensen’s look of terror as fear of Jared from their previous encounter. Jared’s head still hadn’t deflated from that, taking full stock in his victory once he’d pushed away the odd feeling left by the last icy glare. “Were you in my classroom?”

Jensen set to composing himself immediately and though the illusion of perpetual put-togetherness was shattered, he still managed a semblance of serenity. He nodded, a fluid motion instead of the jerky head shake that was his instinct. “Yes,” he said with a tone as hostile and unfriendly as always. “I had a question about the AP schedule. I was up here to ask you, since you’re the closest one that deals with that. I figured it out once I walked into your room, though.” He slipped into a little grin that appeared sweet from the outside but was not being mistaken for anything but sinister by Jared.

“I don’t believe you,” he challenged in a hum, stepping even closer to Jensen in the limited and shrinking personal space between them. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you? I know you’ve been avoiding me. You’re scared of me, arentchya?”

Jensen nodded frantically, head bobbing vehemently enough to give him whiplash. “You’ve got me,” he said with an exaggerated pout and whine. “All I do is ache for your company, Padalecki. Tears me up inside not to be near you. I sit around and pine for you in my classroom, thinking of ways to impress you. I am Jay Gatsby to your Daisy Buchanan.”

Jared’s cocky smile flashed angry in a split second. Just talking to Jensen was an exhausting game and it gave him a sort of emotional whiplash that he truthfully needed a couple of weeks between. Here it was again, going from on top to the bottom of this struggle so abruptly that his head spun. Jensen brought up that literary piece of trash that Jared had just been thinking about during their last conversation. As he ran through their conversation, he wondered if he had even voiced his thought out loud.   
Jensen gave him a quizzical look as Jared paused to sort through his thoughts.“Whatever,” he snarled. He was another step into Jensen’s space when he squinted in curiosity. Jensen had these amazing green eyes, hidden behind the thin silver frames perched carefully on his nose. “Maybe one day I will hit a guy with glasses,” he quickly added, hoping to cover up his acknowledgment of the sparkle in that green. Maybe Jensen hadn’t noticed the strange expression of interest pass over Jared’s face at all.

Jensen ignored the hot squirm in his gut at the look on Jared’s face and just rolled his eyes tiredly. “I have to go eat,” he announced, hoping his faux-boredom was abundantly clear. “Call me if my eyes are so pretty, won’t you?” He slid around Jared’s Herculean mass standing in his path and jogged down the stairs around the corner before he could get a reply.

Jared pushed the surfacing thoughts and the whole encounter in general from his mind as he went into his classroom. A few minutes and a graded test later, the bell rang and his students flooded in. They weren’t exactly bouncing up and down in excitement to learn algebra and trig, but as an advanced class, they got into the work when they were told. He sat at his desk and continued grading tests when the light on his desk phone lit up. The ringing sounded through the room when he picked up the handle. “Hello, thi- what the-?”

When he tugged on the handset, Jared was surprised to realize it wasn’t coming up with in easy. He nearly clocked himself in the face with the second tug and the teenagers beginning to giggle did nothing to quell his frustration. “Dang it,” he swore softly.

The phone quit lighting up and sounding off, so he let out a sigh of relief. “I’m gonna go see if the office can do anything abou- oh, criminy!” Jared’s instinctive habit of cursing fought to make an appearance in his classroom as he tried to lift his hand from the phone, only to realize his palm was now also stuck. He grabbed the base of the set with his free hand as a balance, yanking furiously to get his other hand free.

The students around him were inevitably dissolving into laughter, slowly morphing this situation into one of his worst nightmares. Embarrassment set in and Jared’s face flushed pink as the titters hit his ears over the stupid mess. As he flew through levels of anger at a dangerous pace, the phone started to ring again and Jared was fluently cursing and grumbling under his breath. When he finally broke the ridiculously strong bond between the handset and the rest of the phone, it was a much more sudden change than he expected. He did not expect, for example, the tension of his problem to be resolved as anti-climatically as the phone flying with his hand to bounce off his forehead. The laughing students’ sounds died down immediately into total terror of what would happen next. Mr. Padalecki wasn’t mean but he certainly had a temper and whoever did this needed to fess up fast before the rest of them were in trouble, too.

Jared pried his hand from the detached handset with letter opener in his drawer, turning instantly to face his class. His eyes narrowed to pick out a suspect when he heard an abrupt cackle from right beneath him. It took him a few seconds to piece it together. He leaned down to see the extension numbers of the last missed calls. x4371. Yeah. 43 was the English department. The laugh from below was muffled and then Jared’s phone was ringing again.

Careful not to get his palm stuck once more to the phone, he snapped directions at his class before answering the call. “Listen to me,” he hissed quietly, pretty aware that every teenager within the room’s confinement was listening. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done this, got it?”

Jensen stuffed a fist in between his teeth to keep the shaking hysterics quiet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chuckled out eventually. “I told you to call me and you didn’t. Hurts a guys feelings, y’know?” Jared didn't even have the semblance of patience required to come up with a witty or school appropriate response to that. Instead, he slammed the phone down and snaps a few pencils while his students pretended to finish the chapter review.


	3. Revenge is a Dish Best Served Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closets are tiny. Jared isn't. It kind of sucks.

Jared was a firm believer in an adage slightly different from Jensen's own of patience: revenge is a dish best served hot. The heat of revenge, in his opinion, should be boiling enough to seriously disfigure the recipient. This mindset led to a totally different payback plan from Jared, although he would reluctantly admit it wasn’t exactly more mature than Jensen’s prank. 

Because seriously? Gluing his phone to itself was a lower than infantile level of retaliation. It was like college all over again, with the cling wrap stuck over the doorways and the hand in warm water while you slept. Jared honestly thought he was over his frat days, had figured he was too old for it back then. 

Special circumstances called for special measures. 

A few classrooms at Ridgecrest had small closets in the back instead of the cupboards most teachers had. Jared was unfortunately one of the cupboard types. A few of his classes used the same textbook so it wasn't imperative that he have a lot of space. Jensen, as head of the English department, had closet space for the stacks and stacks of novels he had to keep track of. Huck Finn, The Scarlet Letter, Waiting for Godot, Othello, and… oh god. The Great Gatsby. 

The illustration on this last book he found stared back at him. The bright and sad eyes made a connection with his own amidst the cover’s stormy blue background and above the skyline of a colorful, lit-up city. Jared really didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about 20th century American literature but it was funny that this book nearly fell into his hands as he bumped against a different tower of beaten-up paperbacks. Here he was hiding in Jensen’s closet, ready to fight back with a prank even more childish than the one he trying repay, and suddenly here was the book Jensen had been talking about the first time Jared heard him speak. 

Jared scowled when he thought back to that day, the sour expression etching deep into his features. It had been one of his first days at Ridgecrest, the back-to-school week of the year before last. He’d spent the last five years at Crosswell Middle School a few towns away and it was hard to transition between middle school and high school. The students, despite being only a few years apart, were at totally different places mentally and emotionally. Even through this change, Jared was pretty sure he was picking up the routine alright for a new guy. His students seemed to like him here, not to mention the steep drop-off between middle school and high school when it came to students fighting and pitching fits. He was finally getting into the swing of things when he met Jensen. 

He understood after college and five years of teaching experience that teachers inevitably had vastly differentiating habits as instructors. Jared had never had a problem with any style of teaching, as long as it got the job done. He saw it as a good thing that students had the opportunity to feel out what kind of superior they responded best to before they went off to find a job and dealt with whatever the boss handed them. He was passionate about his subject matter and the prospect of helping students with a subject that was almost universally hated. The fascination and genuine enjoyment teamed up with Jared’s deafening thunder of a voice led to his class periods not being the quietest in the Math department. 

Compared to the class underneath him though, Jared’s class might as well have been silent. He was pretty sure it had been the third day of class because his students had been working on a pretest for the state standards when a lively debate broke out below his feet. He tried to ignore it for ten minutes or so, but he couldn’t help blame the lack of concentration on his students’ faces on the sound from below. He excused himself from the class, trusting this hour to survive ten minutes without him. 

He had walked down the stairs, blissfully unaware that most of his trips down here in the future would be filled with bitter insults instead of innocent requests. Once at the bottom of the steps, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine which classroom was his in terms of this hallway. J. Ackles. He felt his cheeks heat up at the sight of that name plaque. He’d heard a lot about Jensen, the up and coming replacement for whenever Mr. Beaver retired. Jensen was young and smart, and Jared couldn’t stop himself from noticing how pretty he was. He’d overheard this guy lecturing in the teacher’s lounge and if he had time to worry about anything besides getting everything right at his new job, Jared would be all over it. 

Within the classroom, a debate had arisen over the cover of their newest reading assignment: The Great Gatsby. It started as a whisper between two students, a little “This book is fugly” that Jensen heard as he walked by. Instead of any sort of punishment, he repeated the phrase with interest and opened it up for discussion. Though they were only a few days into that first semester, slowly but surely a few hesitant hands raised. Jensen had the terse command over a room that made people listen and answer, the patient stare and respect that went along with it that made students silent if he simply stood at the front of the class and waited. 

“The aesthetics of the image and the level to which you enjoy it is, though mathematicians may disagree with me, subjective,” he began, quieting the class with a gesture. “It’s important to note the effect of such a piece, though. The cover is inarguably one of the most celebrated pieces of art in American literature. In regards to-” 

This piece of information was the last thing Jared remembered hearing before he knocked and entered Jensen’s classroom in one fluid motion. 

“Can I help you?” Jensen asked coldly. The stare that met Jared’s wide eyed innocence froze his question on the tip of his tongue.

“I- uh- I…” Jared wasn’t a pushover or one to quibble over his words, but the hostility Jensen met him with caught him completely off guard. Maybe he just wasn’t a friendly person. Swallowing the tight feeling in his throat, Jared pushed through his question. “I’ve got the classroom right above you and y’all are being really loud. We’re taking a test upstairs, so I wanted to know if you could try keeping it down.” It wasn’t the most tactful of demands, but Jared’s head was not at it’s best with Jensen’s overall unfriendliness.

Apparently, the request was much worse than Jared had thought as he came downstairs because Jensen’s expression flashed so subzero that Jared was pretty sure he was rooted to his place for being on the receiving end of that look. 

“I think I know how to take care of my class,” Jensen cut out bitterly. 

“I know, it’s just that, uh-” Jared’s face flushed hot despite the icy gaze when he noticed all the eyes on him. He recognized a few of his new students, though he couldn’t recall them by name yet. 

“If you would kindly refrain from your fumbling and bumbling,” Jensen interrupted, gesturing to his students with the arm not holding a copy of Gatsby, “I have a class to teach. Go back to your room and see if you can figure out how to do the same. Without my help.”

Jared sensed a boiling under his skin that was familiar as an emotion but foreign with the intensity. The heat rose to the surface of his skin, smearing another, darker layer of blush over the blotchy pink base. He stormed out of the room to steam in his classroom. 

It was the start of an unbelievably imbalanced rivalry. Jensen maintained his gelid dislike of Jared and every so often made sure to get a dig in to rile him. Whenever Jared had been lured into a false sense of security, another backhanded hit came and he toppled over again. He didn’t just let it happen. Every time one of Jensen’s stunts came to his attention, Jared would stomp down the staircase and yell until he was red in the face. Jensen sat through every last howl of rage with a smug air of superiority that did nothing to quell Jared’s burning vexation. The disparity in the relationship, if could be called that, remained constant and nothing tipped the stability.

That was until whatever was happening with the pranks. 

Jared had touched the same nerve in his yelling session over the “English is better than math” trash talking that he brushed over that very first fight. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it had flipped Jensen into a juvenile joke as retaliation. It was too far regressed to be the start of a new fight; the glued phone and public humiliation reeked of vengeance. Jared was determined to find it again. They were in new territory here with Jensen seeking revenge and it gave Jared the upper hand of a level playing field. The oxymoronic quality to that idea made his head spin.

It was probably a lack of oxygen that was making him so dizzy. Jensen really needed this closet space because Jared could barely turn around within the confines of the walls, books, and door. He had no moment of hesitation when he heard Jensen’s door click open and footsteps padded into the room. Jensen deserved this after yesterday. 

Jared’s breathing settled into deep silence and he pressed his ear against the door. Broad shoulders bumped into another mountain of novels and novellas. His arm shot out to catch the falling works before they made a sound. Letting out a quiet exhalation of relief, he placed the books carefully back on top of the pile. As soon as they were perched securely, Jared heard a tell tale squeak of Jensen’s chair and the clunk of his bag dropping to the floor. The pleather seat and unsuspecting Jensen were less than three feet away, and without further thought, Jared flung the door open. All in the same moment, he jumped out, landed heavily on two giant feet, and roared at the top of his lungs. He was hoping that no other teachers were doing anything important so early in the morning, although he figured if they could suffer through Jensen’s racket, a moment of yelling wouldn’t do much to phase them.

Jensen flinched in his seat, heart stopping and lips running a long string curses as he jumped up and turned around simultaneously. The swearing paused for a moment as he caught his breath and absorbed the face in front of him: the grinning, toothy horror that was Jared Padalecki. Once this fact was abundantly clear, Jensen started cursing again. “You stupid ass, you gave me a damn heart attack!”

Jared’s head was thrown back in laughter and he clutched his gut to steady the amused sobs that racked his body. “Your face!” he shrieked happily through tears. Jensen stood with his arms crossed, looking colder than ever even as his heart hammered through his chest. 

“I could smack you easily,” he threatened testily, countenance displaying a complete lack of enjoyment. “Are you done?” 

Jared came down from his crack up with a blissful smile stuck to his face. A pair of dimples poked out like craters of cuteness and Jensen was pretty sure he was going to be sick. “Yeah, alright, I- woah.” Jared cut himself off, looking at Jensen with a look of what seemed to be concern. From zero to sixty in a split second, Jared wasn’t exactly predictable at the moment. “You don’t have your glasses on.”

Jensen blinked rapidly. “Yes,” he agreed warily. “I wore contacts today.”

“They’re so goddamn green...” 

Jared had been stepping closer until they were both backed up to Jensen’s desk. If he’d been thinking clearly, not hopped up on the adrenaline of laughter and one-upmanship, he would have paid attention to how close he was getting to Jensen. His eyes were beyond mesmerizing though, shades of green coalescing into one indescribable color.

Jensen’s knees hit the back of the desk with a thud and the confusion didn’t evaporate there. He looked up at Jared, an unnerving eye contact between them giving a quality view of Jared’s eyes. Before he could place exactly what color he’d name them (Blue? Green? Brown? Hazel? None of them quite encompassed the entirety of the hue.), Jared was backing up himself and stuttering out nonsense. 

“I- ah. Mm. Ha, I got you good,” he tried weakly. It was clear that Jensen wasn’t buying it so Jared looked to flee. “We’re even now.” He scampered from the room, as impossible as it was for a six foot four man to ‘scamper’. He was mentally smacking himself for the momentary faux pas and buried himself in lesson plans once he slunk into the safety of his classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took forever! Working on chapter 4 now. Hopefully it'll go more smoothly this time. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	4. Allergic to Cats, Allergic to Wool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people get caught in the crossfire of infantile feuds. Jared only feels bad if they're not annoying.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Pranks were supposed to be more embarrassing for the one getting pranked. Maybe he’d gotten the definition of ‘prank’ wrong, because the rest of Jared’s day was filled with burning shame whenever the backfired retaliation entered his mind. Restless fingers typing after school, he payed little attention and went into autopilot. When he snapped back out of the memory, his computer screen had moved from an email with a concerned parent to dictionary.com. 

Define: prank  
 **prank** [prangk]  
 _noun_  
a trick of an amusing, playful, or sometimes malicious nature.

Amusing, playful, malicious. Jensen could have had the definition rolling off the tip of his tongue in seconds, probably with more complicated synonyms he assumed Jared wouldn’t know. Jared wasn’t dumb, contrary to Jensen’s clear belief. He was younger than Jensen, and he blamed some of Jensen’s higher-footed success on that. If he was being honest with himself though, Jared knew the school saw Jensen as an all-around good teacher. With the messy classroom and the time he spent looking to mess with an innocent math teacher, Jensen had to be bribing the school. Someone that condescending to a colleague had to be an absolute terror to students. It made Jared sick to think about.

The pit of nausea already settled into his stomach, Jared’s brain looped back around to the morning’s mortification. “So goddamn green…” he repeated silently. Had Jensen’s classroom turned into a porn studio? What was that poorly crafted line all about? He didn’t really blame Jensen for falsing concluding that Jared was barely fluent in English after that.

The lack of glasses had thrown him, to say the least. Poor description or not, those eyes were ridiculously green. Jared mentally patted himself on the back for being able to drag himself away when he did instead of rooting to the floor until Jensen said something. The personal congratulations, unfortunately, did nothing to quell the humiliation still flushing his cheeks. 

Google image search: green eyes

Eleven and a half minutes later, Jared knew he had to be remembering Jensen’s eyes wrong. None of these eyes were anything like Jensen’s. The only ones coming close to bright enough were the photoshopped pictures and the one with colored contacts.

That was it. Colored contacts. 

Jared, satisfied with that answer, moved to close the browser when he heard footsteps outside his classroom. The speed of his actions doubled and his senses heightened to get a better read on how close the steps were. He just knew Jensen would be strolling in any moment with that ever present sneer of superiority. Jared felt like a teenager again, trying to watch porn and constantly worrying that his mom was right behind him. 

The window closed out just in time for someone to walk through the doorway. 

Not Jensen. Jared didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed about that. 

Mrs. Day bounced toward Jared’s desk with the too broad grin she almost always wore. “Jared!” she sung in a grateful tune. Though perpetually happy and a talented singer, she couldn’t ever quite pull off the melodious greeting. She never gave up on it, but it was unfortunate for a music teacher to introduce herself with that flat note. 

“Good afternoon, Felicia,” Jared answered softly, working with every minute of middle school cotillion and southern, mama-instilled manners not to sound rude. He used to be such a nice boy, everyone and their mother had said so in high school. His thirties were starting to turn him cynical. He blamed Jensen. 

“I got a new cat! Would you like to see a picture?”

Jared choked back a sigh. The first dozen times Felicia had shown him a cat, he’d gone into the conversation with a genuine grin and passionate head shake. The thirteenth (and that was being generously low) time combined with his inner-turmoil put a severe damper on his enthusiasm. 

“Sure I would, but y’know, I don’t think I appreciate your cats as much everyone else does. I’m actually allergic.” A pang of guilt echoed through the walls of Jared’s stomach; he felt as bad as Jensen for lying to Felicia, who really was sweet when she calmed down about the cats. Still, his head was twisting and spinning from the overwhelming befuddlement of the day. All he could do was go home, take some Advil, and try to stop himself from researching colored contacts. 

Felicia’s brow dipped low and Jared felt another brick drop to the bottom of his stomach. He got caught in the lie. His mama would be appalled at his terrible manners today. “That’s strange,” the redhead chirped with her head cocked to the side. “Jensen told me today that you love cats. Came down to my room just to tell me.”

Jared blushed profusely. Jensen. Surprise. “Oh, well I do love cats,” he back pedaled, belatedly wondering why he was sticking his neck out to protect Jensen’s lie. “I just get a little jealous of people who can have them. Especially you, y’know. You have so many.”

“Oh, Jared, I’m so sorry!” Felicia crooned with a sympathetic nod. “I’ll try to remember that. Are you allergic to anything else?”

“Uh, bugs,” Jared said, a little taken aback by her interest. “Bug bites, actually. Mosquitoes. But that’s all.”

“So not wool?”

Jared collapsed into a coughing fit to cover the laugh that escaped his throat. Felicia was sweet, Jared knew. She was also crazy. “No. Not wool.”

“So you can hear about my knitting instead?”

Fuck. “I don’t see why not.”

“Jensen is allergic to wool. I was telling him about the sweater I’m knitting for Muffi- Whoops!” She cut herself off with an embarrassed quirk of the lips. “For a friend,” she corrected. “And he said he can’t wear wool, so I shouldn’t knit him a sweater.”

A broad grin stretched over Jared’s face. Not only had Jensen lied too, but the image of him in a knitted sweater did wonders to improve Jared’s mood. “You could always try cotton yarn.”

Felicia’s eyes brightened. “That’s a great idea, Jared! He seemed so torn up that he couldn’t wear one of my sweaters.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“I didn’t want to tease him with the sweaters anymore. So he talked about you for a long time-”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. About the cats, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“He just kept going on about it, actually. I didn’t know your middle name was Tristan.”

Jared laughed out loud. Jensen knew his middle name?

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Felicia continued in a whisper. “But I had a piece to work on. So I promised him I would go talk to you about the cats. Not that I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.”

So everyone was trying to get rid of each other. He still traced it back to Jensen. If the guy could just shut up about Jared, Felicia and her twee cat sweaters wouldn’t be up here because she promised. 

“Anyway, my sweaters. I-”

Jared interrupted with a sincerely sorry expression. “I’m really sorry, Felicia, but I’ve got a headache and a hard chapter to go over at home. Can I take a raincheck on the sweaters thing?”

For all her quirky eagerness, Felicia’s face looked a little relieved when Jared said that.

He needed to work on his manners, as soon as he figured out why Jensen wore colored contacts like that. (Because they look good, he answered himself in his head.)

They said their goodbyes without Jared paying much attention at all. Highway hypnosis extended a frightening distance because the sweaters were the last things he remembered before he was pulling into the parking space in front of his apartment building.

As he trudged up the steps, embarrassment from the last eight hours bogging down his shoulders, Jared swore up and down that he heard Jensen’s smug laughter behind him. 

This was getting a little ridiculous. Or maybe that was just him. 


	5. Coffiasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen always thought coffee was his savior. Jared knows how to hit him where it hurts.

Jensen wasn't paranoid. Paranoia was, by definition, a baseless or excessive suspicion of the motives of others.This wasn't excessive, and it definitely wasn't baseless. Putting it bluntly, Felicia was annoying, and Jensen expected the worst retribution from Jared. You could only listen to cat stories for so long before you rued your childish antics to the very core. At least, that was the plan. 

It wasn't paranoia then, but caution Jensen exercised when he checked his closet three times before he would consider sitting down at his desk early the next morning. It was alertness when he went upstairs to scope out Jared’s classroom, and an understandable mix of relief and worry when the room appeared empty. Vigilance was the only word for it when Jensen‘s stomach lurched at the sweet grin he caught on Jared’s face in the teachers' lounge before the first bell rang. Yes, Jensen was just paying attention. 

When he sat down at his desk with coffee in hand, Jensen let out a shuddering breath. Something about this one was making him uneasy. It might have had something to do with the off-putting intensity in Jared’s eyes when he made the comment about the greenness of Jensen’s. The look was strange and the feeling behind it ineffable. In that moment, he was almost certain Jared was going to slam him up against the snarky motivational posters that littered the walls or murder him in cold blood. The first one had the curve of his cheekbones coloring pink and the second had him shaking in his leather brogues. He was a wreck. Coffee would help. 

Coffee always did help, especially since Jensen wasn’t exactly a chipper morning person. He told himself that, as a teacher, the first time he regretted anything about choosing this career, he’d get out for the sake of the kids. They deserved a teacher who had no qualms to dedicating his life to their education. Considering a large population of them hated the early seven thirty start time almost as much as he did, he let that one slide. He was only human, after all: a human who passionately hated early mornings. 

Coffee was warm and bitter. It shifted his rigid bones and tense muscles into something more pliant during mornings at the house. Before school, it made him just that little bit less irritated with teenagers to keep from assigning detentions to every first period student to cross his path. The coffee from the teachers' lounge was generally deemed to be the bile of Satan by the majority of Ridgecrest staff, but Jensen found himself thinking fondly back to it on the weekends. The shock from the slightly frayed cord was a terrifying danger to the other teachers. Jensen embraced it for the jolt of wakefulness it streaked up his veins and the unique taste of bonus bitterness. 

He probably needed a hobby or something. 

Thinking back as the liquid hit his tongue, he should’ve seen it coming. Nobody was willing to make coffee in the “death pot” but him and depressed Mr. Collins, the monotone accounting teacher who used the electric shock of the plug just to feel something. Felicia would’ve never used it, no matter how nice she tried to be. Where would her wretched cats go if something happened to her? He didn’t think twice when she offered him a cup of coffee with the hint of a knowing smile earlier that morning. For someone being so careful, he was embarrassingly oblivious. Paranoia was looking like a pretty good new tactic when the awful tang registered in his head. 

It wasn’t extra bitter. No, Jensen would’ve embraced that wholeheartedly. He was one for black coffee, dark chocolate, and grapefruit in excess. This was a whole different layer of sharp. It was salt. 

The briny flavor, more than vaguely reminiscent of seawater consumed accidentally on childhood vacations, had Jensen gagging and sputtering onto his lesson plan. A few days worth of notes and activities blurred with the dark brown liquid as he scowled. He _really_ should’ve seen this coming. 

Jared didn’t just shoot him cutesy smiles like that on a regular basis. Even if that look made his insides curl, Jensen was on guard. How did salt in his coffee go unnoticed until it was already in his mouth? More importantly, how did Jared seem to have his shit together better than Jensen in this uncharted territory of equal footing? Jensen had always been the one to get Jared’s goat and Jared stormed down to bellow threateningly in return. The cycle went on. Whatever had broken the chain was the reason Jensen’s beloved coffee tasted like goddamn watery come.

The idea of Jared slamming him against the wall had Jensen blushing before, but it was nothing in comparison to the vehemence of the red cropping up now. The previous embarrassments in his life, including the time he popped a boner during a speech about manatees in eighth grade, all compiled to about half the shame he felt for letting his mind wander like _that_.

It wasn't his fault! The bitter and the salty…

Of course, Jared chose that exact moment to suddenly appear in front of Jensen's desk with teeth flashing and a mug of coffee in hand. Jensen nearly did another spit take when he realized he wasn't alone. 

"Fuck!" he hissed in surprise. 

"Jen!" Jared chastised mockingly. "We have a language code just like a dress code, and your dirty mouth is included in those rules."

"Don't call me Jen," he grumbled as he tried to collect himself. 

"You got it, Jenny."

Jensen scowled and tried to wipe off the coffee on his lesson pages with a free sleeve. "What do you want, Jared?" he gritted out hollowly, a fight between composure and fury as a response breaking out just below his skin. The awful way his mouth tasted didn't help calm him down. 

"A truce," Jared said with a shrug, setting the mug on Jensen's desk beside the first cup of salty disappointment. "Now we're even. Let's just be pals, huh?"

Jensen snorted hard enough that he tasted the salt with a whole new potency. "No way. I'm not drinking your poison a second time."

"How do you know Felicia didn't do it? She gave you the coffee."

"Jared. Come on. I saw her cry once when a bird hit the window. It didn't even die."

Jared let out a muffled laugh. "Alright, alright. So it was me. But it's not a second time with the poison. This time it's actual poison."

"Cute."

"I try."

"Drink it."

"What?"

"Take a sip of it, or I won't believe that it's safe."

"I'm not really gonna poison you."

"Knowing you, you probably couldn't read the directions on the tranquilizers you put in there. I don't particularly want to die."

"Clever. I didn't do anything to it, honest."

Jensen picked up the warm mug and held it back out to Jared. "Then you won't have a problem drinking it," he said with a short quirk of the brow. 

Jared accepted the cup with an overtly offended expression. The pads of his fingers brushed Jensen's knuckles when he made the grab. Without Jensen's steel-tight grip, the cup would've shattered and splattered it's contents onto Jensen's papers. 

"Sorry," Jared mumbled, taking the mug this time with two hands to avoid the sweaty slide and fumble he'd almost dropped it with last time. 

He brought the drink to his lips and, with a final smirk, took a sip. Jensen studied his features for any uncontrollable sign of disgust. He took the cup back when he was satisfied with Jared's reaction. 

Jared grinned as Jensen drank from the cup, the older of the two immediately reeling in his own reaction to spit again. This wasn't his coffee either. 

"You sadistic pig, what is this?!" Jensen accused loudly. "Where's my shocky coffee?"

"You mean the Death Pot?" Jared asked innocently. "I got rid of that old thing. Bought a new pot for the teachers' lounge. Everyone is ecstatic about it."

Jensen honest-to-god growled, and Jared couldn't help but chuckle. 

"You're evil," Jensen accused. 

"Don't you like coffee?"

"I'm gonna get you back for this one," Jensen warned dangerously. 

Jared waved him off patronizingly. "Aw, hush, ya big baby," he laughed. "I didn't throw it out."

"You didn't?" Jensen asked in confusion. Some prankster this kid was. 

"Nah, I kept it. You can have it all for yourself when you start being nice to me."

Jensen's face sunk further into befuddlement. "What?"

"When you start treating me like a fellow adult, I'll give you your suicidal coffee pot."

"You're a dork," Jensen blurted. 

Jared smiled crookedly as his dimples poked out and twitched the spot by his nose, an overwhelmingly cute set of expressions. "I know it. I love numbers, proofs, and stealing coffee pots. So, truce?"

Jensen's seemingly permanent frown dissolved into the hint of a smile. "No," he said smugly. "I know I've got this in the bag. Hostage coffee pot or not, you can't compete with me."

"That'd make a good band name."

"Can't Compete with Me?"

"Hostage Coffee Pot."

"Oh my god," Jensen laughed reluctantly. "Get the hell out of here. Go teach a class of nonsense or something."

"Should I take the coffee?"

"Leave the new stuff. I have to drink something."

Jared snatched the salt coffee off the desk and started off to the door with a smirk etching itself onto his lips. "I'll take the cummy coffee."

Jensen visibly cringed, cheeks heating up and coloring just as brightly as they did when the thought first entered his mind. 

Crummy coffee. He must've said crummy coffee. 

Jensen needed a long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always appreciate comments, so keep telling me what y'all think!


	6. Write Dirty to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared intercepts a note during his class that he wishes he would've just left alone. Suits him right for doing his job.

“And if x squared plus y squared equals radius squared for circle formula, and an ellipse is just a distorted circle, what are the denominators of the x and y in the ellipse formula for a circle?”

Jared set down the new dry erase marker on his podium as he turned away from the board. He faced the class just in time to see two hands shoot up, one waver into the air tentatively, and one pass a note to another in what was obviously little attempt at subtlety. Five hands, five students, and he narrowed down instantly on the two pencil-less palms exchanging a creased slip of paper. A little formally folded for a note in the middle of math class, he noticed, but the decorum and manners of their rule breaking were lost on Jared in favor of walking between the offenders’ desks. 

“Guys? Something more interesting than conic sections you wanna share with the class?” he asked, hopefully achieving an outward layer of disapproval. Colin, the tenth grader now meeting Jared’s hollow glare with a look of wide-eyed shock, shook his head furiously. 

“No, sir,” he blurted out uncomfortably, lying through his teeth even as the note curled up in his fist.

“We’re particularly interested in parabolas today, Mr. Padalecki,” Madison claimed innocently, trying to mask Colin’s anxiety with her own composure despite being caught. The difference in their comfort levels at the moment was due to the one year of high school she had on him and the natural brazenness of her personality compared to his innate desire to please. "You know I like solving the equations better with only one squared term. Maybe we should go back to that."

Jared stood in silence for a moment before he laughed and shook his head exasperatedly. "You're not tricking me, Miss McLaughlin. I know you pretty well. Bad news for you, that means I know your tricks. You paid attention during yesterday's lesson, but you and Colin have been giving me less than your full attention today. Colin coulda tricked me because I don’t have any lies to back it up to, but the wet-the-bed terror on his face tells me neither of you can give me a single fact about ellipses."

Colin blinked rapidly and tried to stop his face from flushing as Madison's eyes slid slyly to the board. The only set of numbers and letters she could find was Jared's messily looping cursive of the standard equation for a circle. To Colin, they just looked like swimming squiggles as he burned with embarrassment. Though the symbols were boldly written and definitely large enough to read, they lacked any piece of information that would tip either student off to the core of the lesson.

"I thought you said this wouldn't be so bad," Colin mumbled frustratedly from the corner of his mouth. Madison threw her head back and laughed. 

"Aw, don't worry, Ford," she soothed with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's just _Jared_ in our faces. He's not so bad, right?"

Jared shot the junior a dirty look, the hope of admonishing her disappearing when she beamed back with a smile almost bright enough to make him forget he was being mocked and prodded. "Just give me the note," he said. His voice sounded tired but the hint of a chuckle inflected into the tone told Madison and the rest of the nosily interested students that he wasn't particularly angry. Colin was too busy trying to back pedal out of his bad idea to notice. Jared snapped impatient fingers in his direction. "C'mon, Colin, hand it over. Or should I read your love note to the class?"

"Oh god, no!" Colin babbled in his panic. "Don't read it now. Please. That’s a really bad idea."

Madison started to snicker from his right. "Not _our_ love note," she sang. Colin's sharp intake of breath could be heard around the room as it echoed off concrete walls, smudged windows, and colorful posters with math equations galore. Jared's brow creased in the middle as he tried to decipher the cryptic hum. 

"What do you mean, it's not yours?"

While Madison's amusement grew, Colin shrunk further and further back into the tiny metal chair. "Nothing!" he squeaked, followed by a clearing of the throat.

"Dude," she snorted, "you should be more embarrassed of the sounds you're making than the fact that we have to pass this note."

"You haven't read it! You don't know what is says. It could be a threat."

"Or a promise,” she suggested with a waggle of an eyebrow.

"Are you two writing dirty notes in my class?" Jared asked incredulously, eyes widening as he tried to bite back a grin. Teenagers writing anything inappropriate to each other was a perfectly acceptable reason to gag verbally, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing. The idea of Madison McLaughlin, a wily junior completely incapable of keeping her mouth shut, tossing explicit notes to Colin Ford, an unarguably clever but quiet sophomore who nearly fainted when he thought actual trouble was headed away, in the middle of math class... Hell, Jared deserved a medal for not laughing aloud. He was some kind of hero or saint that he didn't comment further on the dynamics of that relationship. 

"Maybe you should just read it for yourself," Madison said with a dangerous tilt of the head. Colin shook his head wildly. 

"Are you trying to get us killed? I mean, I'm all for this plan, but not if I'm gonna get in trouble for Miste-"

Madison cut him off with a loud and clearly fake cough. "Alright," she said quickly. "That's enough out of you. Just give Jared the note so we can move on."

"Mr. Padalecki."

"Right," she apologized, pout of the lips seeming almost sincere if her teacher didn't know better. "Mr. Padalecki. Give Mr. P the note, Colin."

Colin sighed and held out the folded up square in the center of his sweaty palm. "Don't read it now," he pleaded quietly. 

Jared plucked the paper from Colin's trembling hand and nodded curtly. "As long as you promise to pay attention for the rest of class. Your comments only come when you're calm, and I'd hate to miss out on that dazzling wit of yours." He slid the note into his pocket and smiled down at his students before heading back to the front of the classroom. Colin let out a sigh of relief, trailed by a sheepish grin. 

"Whatever you say, sir," he laughed softly. "I wouldn't want to disappoint." 

When Jared's back was turned, he didn't catch the grins of the other students at an opportunity to both miss even the tiniest fraction of the lesson and to have a topic of conversation in the lunch room. Whether he saw them or not, Jared knew they were there and rolled his eyes as he started to write on the board again. 

"X squared," he reiterated aloud, "divided by a squared plus y squared divided by b squared equals..."

"Radius squared?" Madison tried hopefully.

Jared shook his head and continued writing. "That's the circle equation. Which we learned, again, yesterday."

A few broken titters erupted behind him. 

"This one is simpler on the other side of the equation," he continued. "It's just one."

Madison smacked a palm to her head. "One?!"

Jared laughed, glad that none of the students could see his face. "Yes, Miss McLaughlin. Just one."

"For Christ's sake."

"Don't swear, please," Jared reminded her with amusement shining in his tone.

"Fuck, sorry," she mumbled cheekily. Laughter inevitably broke out behind her.

"That's enough," he said when the giggles died down. "Come on. We've already wasted enough time today. Can you just focus for the next twenty minutes? I can let you talk after that. I just need to get through this lesson in case any of y'all don't get it."

The smirks quelled into somber expressions and short nods. Though class with Mr. Padalecki regularly got rowdy, the students buckled down when he asked. It was a connection with students he was particularly proud of, pleased that he could have an almost qual relationship with the kids while commanding their respect at the same time. 

The rest of the class went by quickly. Much to Jared's chagrin, Madison and Colin picked up enough during the remainder of the lesson to not open themselves up for more mocking. It once again crossed his mind that Jensen was turning him into a bitter psychopath. Of course, he didn't really want the two teenagers to fail. He would've like to tease them a little more, though. 

When the bell rang, Jared called Colin to stay behind. Madison stood a few feet behind him for apparent moral support, but Jared waved her away. 

"I'm not gonna bite him," he scoffed. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"I have somewhere to be," Colin interjected sheepishly.

"This'll only take a second. And you don't need back-up." 

One more pointed look toward Madison and she was stomping away in the sort of dramatic huff both boys expected of her. 

"Am I in trouble?" Colin sighed. Most of the traces of fear were now absent from his voice, replaced by resignation to his punishment. 

Jared replied with a noncommittal grunt as he pulled the note from his pocket and started to unfold the creases. 

Colin felt a renewed flush of worry. "I haven't read it yet. I really don't wanna be here while you read that," he stammered out in a final attempt to preserve dignity. 

"You're a smart boy, Colin. Clever, too. It's an awful shame you get so tongue tied when you're near trouble."

"I mean it, Mr. Padalecki, I don't know what that says-"

"Shit."

Jared skimmed over the first line before turning red and slapping the half sheet of paper face down onto his desk. 

"Oh my god," Colin whined. "It's not mine. It's not Madison's. We didn't write that, I swear."

"I hope you didn't!" Jared mumbled in awe. "Lord, I hope you don't know any words like that."

"I’m in high school. I think I can say worse stuff than you," Colin laughed weakly.

Jared held up a hand in disgust. "Stop. I don't wanna know that." He shuddered before flicking his eyes up to Colin's face. "Who wrote it?"

Colin grinned, smug look a little reminiscent of the smiles he’d just gotten from Madison. Their desks needed to be separated by a few more feet. "I think it says in there somewhere."

"Just get out, you little sneak. And pay attention tomorrow, yeah?"

Colin nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir, Mr. Padalecki," he sung dutifully, only a vague hint of irony twinging the tune. Anxious and clever, the kid was nonetheless sincere.

He scurried from the classroom as fast as he could, convinced Mr. Padalecki would change his mind and make him stay in the room while he read the rest. Madison may have been right about the gossip, or her so called "sixth sense", but she had another thing coming if she thought Colin was going to take the fall for her antics. Mr. Ackles wasn't worth it either.

Jared craned his neck to make sure Colin was gone far enough out the door before he picked the letter back up. Maybe he'd misread it the first time. 

'I'm going to jerk your pretty cock off until you come all over those neat little stacks on your desk. But you wouldn't want to get all your protractors sticky, would you?'

Jared sucked in a breath. Oh yeah. He'd _definitely_ read that one right. He could hardly bring himself to read any more.

'Now that got your attention, I'll bet. I just wanted to make sure you read this. I know you're nosy, so you'd read the whole thing no matter what. Anyway, I consider it good enough pay back. 

'Now the real question is: Does your come taste as salty and bitter as your coffee?

'I really hope you're reading this in class. That's the point of this "prank", if you will, but it'll still be pretty satisfying if you're alone. I bet you’re even redder if you're alone. I know you though, and I'm almost certain you waited until everyone was gone to read it. Presumably put it down after you read that first line of pure gold.

'This is sufficient payback, after all. Maybe a little more extreme than what you did to me. I have, though, always been a little bit better than you. A little bit older, a little more experienced, a little more ruggedly handsome, a little better as a teacher, a little quicker to quip.

'Of course, “a little” is me under-exaggerating. Using my manners. And yes, for you, these are my manners. I'd like to be saying worse things, believe it or not. 

'I'm actually entertained that you think you can beat me at this game I've been playing all these years. What, all of a sudden you think you have what it takes to outsmart me? You yell when you're mad, Caveman. 

'Speaking of cavemen, you look like one when you grow your beard in the winter. Like the ones from the Geico commercials. Perhaps it's my skewed image of you that draws the comparison, since I can never seem to forget how awful the subject you teach is. And useless.

'I'm assuming by now you are _very_ red in the face, but it's from anger and humiliation instead of the hot flush you felt at my salutation.

'Words are quite powerful, aren't they?'

Unlike Colin promised, the note was blank of a signature but a dash and a simple snowflake drawn in the bottom margin. A name would've been redundant; Jared knew exactly who this tiny controlled printing was written by. A now all-too-familiar shiver settled throughout the length of his spine, electrifying his nerves while even his fingertips buzzed against the paper. 

Jensen had him down pat, knew when he was reading the note and what his reaction would be. It put Jared on edge in a way that, reluctantly, made him laugh. Of course, he was angry at Jensen's analysis and his cock was taking an unfortunate interest in the dirty sections, but he couldn't help smiling. It, hypothetically, shouldn't have surprised him that he was so good-humored in response to this. After all, he would've reacted with a begrudged snort if anyone else was the culprit.

Which meant, Jensen was becoming human in his head. 

That was scarier than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this, I have a promise for you readers who came for angry sex. **Very vague spoilers for those of you who want to be totally surprised by the plot.**
> 
>  
> 
> _The angry sex you've been waiting for will come, no matter how mushy the plot seems to be getting. I wanted to assure you all of this, because I'm just as excited for it as you are._
> 
>  
> 
> Again, please comment if you liked it, or if you didn't. I want to know what y'all think, and feel free to talk to me at any time!


	7. High School Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's in the sweater, and somehow Jared's the one being fuzzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer one, friends, and I did it all in one go. Hope all my ducks are in a row.  
> Earlier this time for Alena (wincestwithpie): not a week! Five days! You're welcome :)

In the week that followed the note’s interception, the neat stacks on Jared's desk were a cause of constant distraction. During any downtime in his classroom, his eyes couldn’t help but drift over to the clean, even lines of tests and worksheets. A cluttered desk meant a cluttered mind to Jared, but apparently an organized one could mean the same thing. 

_“I'm going to jerk your pretty cock off until you come all over those neat little stacks on your desk.”_

The idea, if Jared was being honest with himself, drove him crazy. He tried not to think too far into it, not to make any assumptions, and to translate the weird fire pooling in his belly each time he reread it into an anger that would help him win this damn thing once and for all.

Because rereading it? Yeah, he’d done that.

Once or twice.

More times than he was proud of, maybe. 

He slid it under his keyboard for safe keeping between the shameful indulgences and there it collected dust for the few hours he could stand to leave it alone. His record in ignoring the maddening piece of paper didn’t stretch past four hours, and he didn’t know which part of the infatuation was more embarrassing; how often he let himself reexamine the thing or the stirring interest his dick took up with each read through. 

That bastard.

The week between the note and when Jared’s payback finally fell into place was one of his low points. Self-control had never been his strong suit.

Inexplicable fascination with the note aside, Jared did have a plan in the works. It was an idea he’d been playing around with ever since his conversation with Felicia, a lovely encounter courtesy of Jensen. It had seemed a little too humiliating at the time, but the way his face flushed the next time he bumped into Jensen told him that it was definitely warranted. He toyed with the guilt of using Felicia for one of his pranks, but Jensen had done it twice. Jared was caught between wanting to use the same resources and wanting to have the moral high ground. A second encounter with Jensen, complete with stammering and a blush that could be seen from space, tipped him over the edge. Jared was doing this. His conscience would deal with it later.

If Jensen could have the civility of a human instead of the social graces of someone raised by a wolf when this whole thing went through, it would actually be a win-win situation for Felicia and Jared. Felicia would be happy that someone took interest in her work and Jared was already shivering in anticipation to see what she would come up with. Jensen was usually only openly rude to Jared. If his standard (for lack of a better word) “manners” could hold up, this would be good.

Jared felt an impatience so irritating through his eager wait for the punchline of such a hilarious joke that he could hardly stand it. It was quelled in part by the flinching and fawning Jensen couldn’t help every time they crossed paths. During the first two bump-ins, the words of the letter started to swim across Jared’s line of vision and he was heated in the worst of ways. As time wore on and the plan was put into action, the flustered responses switched between them. It was Jared who took a deep breath and greeted Jensen with a venomous glare, and Jensen who started to fumble with whatever he was holding and stutter out a single-syllabic answer. Jared had Jensen right where he wanted him as they both anticipated the next strike. Those emerald green eyes, now hardly ever covered by his silver frames, widened in fear when they caught sight of Jared’s tall frame barrelling down the halls. Jensen tried to downplay it into something more subtle, but Jared detected the look of terror every time. The stakes were getting higher and the price they paid as victims was upping. Jared thought he was continuing the climb to a dangerous war when he gave the go ahead on his next hit, but the results turned out a little softer than he imagined. 

And fuzzier. 

And pinker. 

Jensen walked into Jared's classroom at the end of the electrically charged week with a lower lip pouted in a cartoonishly upset moue. His crow’s feet dug heavily into the skin as he tried to appear as sympathetic as possible. The emerald of his irises seemed to sparkle (it was damn embarrassing how often Jared noticed these things) as his eyes widened, this time in pleading instead of the concern for his safety that Jared had been getting used to. The whole expression would've been comical enough if it wasn't for the sweater.

Oh, the sweater.

This bright pink and purple striped monstrosity clung almost viciously to every inch of Jensen's torso. The colors didn't clash terribly, which was a tremendous feat of the craftsman, but the way Jensen hung limply inside of the tug of cotton turned the whole thing into a nightmare. He held out his arms with palms up in a clear signal of defeat.

"I look like a fucking candy cane," Jensen griped before the laughter started. 

Jared clutched his gut, head lolling back against the chair as booming laughter seemed to stream from every inch of him.

Jensen’s open body language closed off into an angry pout as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Nearly every line of his muscles could be discerned through the obscene cling of knitted fabric. Jared, meanwhile, couldn’t gain his composure no matter how well serenity seemed to work for Jensen. This was _hilarious_. 

“Are you almost done?” Jensen whined pathetically, head dropping when Jared finally calmed down enough to look up again.

“Oh, no,” Jared said with a shake of his head, chuckle still a very crucial part of his tone. He picked up his phone and slid it unlocked.

“What are you-” Jensen began before he heard the definitive snap of a camera app. Of course.

Jared set down his phone and his hands were up defensively in a flash. “I swear it’s not going in the yearbook!” he snickered in a fake panic. “Just don’t beat me up.”

Jensen shook his head in disgust before letting out a snort. This kid was an idiot. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you down here to beat me up?”

“No.” Jensen gestured down to his torso. “This?” he laughed softly. “This is pretty good. I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m, uh… I’m impressed.”

Jared’s mock-fear stretched into an overpowering grin. And damn, there were those dimples peeking out again. “Yeah?” he said with a little too much enthusiasm. “It’s good, isn’t it? You look good, if it’s any comfort.”

“Oh, I know,” Jensen smirked. “A little comforting to hear you say that, though.”

“Pink’s a good color on you.”

“Good on me, yeah. Even better afterwards on your bedroom floor.”

Jared choked on the abnormal amount of saliva in his mouth. He was near drooling. Probably the clingy sweater. “Did you just hit on yourself for me?”

Jensen shrugged playfully. “You’ve got it bad for me, don’t you?”

Jared didn’t know yet. He didn’t really want to know, either. What he really wanted to know was how the daggering insults had turned into flirty banter, and how to turn it back around. He wasn’t ready for this. “Am I that transparent?” he asked sarcastically.

“You should try a sweater like this,” Jensen suggested, tugging at the fuschia hem. “Makes you real hard to read. I’m gonna start wearing it with my cowboy boots on the weekends.”

“Oh yeah,” Jared hummed appreciatively. “The whole classic Texas look. I dig it. You gonna model it for me?” The words were spilling out of his mouth before he had time to arrange them. He might as well have been hearing them for the first time as Jensen did. His normal filter would _not_ have let that sentence slip.

“Yeah. You got it bad.”

A moment of silence followed and Jared grew increasingly restless and all around uncomfortable as the quiet wore on. “Do you wanna go get a drink and tell me more about how impressed you are with me?”

He wanted badly to break the silence, but there had probably been a better way to do it.

Jensen’s face lit up with surprise. If Jared was going to be rejected mercilessly, at least he’d finally caught Jensen off guard (besides the jumping out of the closet thing).

“I don’t drink.” It was curt and it stung Jared more than he would ever admit, but there was nothing he could do about it. That was tha- “I like coffee though.”

Jared bit the inside of his lip to keep his smile under control. “Prude. Okay, coffee.”

“Trust me, I’m looking out for you,” Jensen defended. “I am not fun drunk. I’m… weepy. And very lightweight.”

“I was in a frat, so-”

“So I shouldn’t leave open drinks around you?”

“You already did that. I didn’t roofie you.”

“No, you just ruined my damn coffee.”

Jared laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

“Whatever. I’ve actually got a better idea than coffee.”

“Going home for the weekend and pretending none of this ever happened?”

“That’s a close second. But no. You ever been up in that room above the football field?”

“By the bleachers? I heard there are ghosts in there.”

Jensen slapped a hand to his face. “No, Jared,” he deadpanned disappointedly. “Just… come on. Let’s go.”

Jared held up out an expectant hand. “Help me up?”

“Are you crippled?”

“Just lazy.”

“I’m not gonna hold your hand just because you’re scared of ghosts, princess.”

“Help. Please?” 

Jensen groaned exaggeratedly but grabbed Jared’s hand nonetheless. As he started to pull, his hand slipped. “Jesus.”

“You’re sweaty.”

“Thanks,” he snorted. “I noticed.”

“It’s okay,” Jared giggled. “I sweat standing still. Like, buckets.” A knowing smirk passed over his face. “Besides… that’s what happens when ice melts.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Ice queen,” he continued.

That little fucker. “Oh, shut up before I uninvite you. I mean it.” 

Jared got up himself with a little grunt of effort and stood at attention. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“Let’s go, sailor,” Jensen chuckled, turning around abruptly and assuming Jared would follow as he headed out the door..

He did, closely behind like a lovesick puppy. Jared didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on, but he knew he wasn’t going to miss a second of it. He was resilient by nature, quick to forgive, and maybe it was the pink and purple sweater, but he was latching onto this olive branch like a life line. Maybe he was going soft. 

All he knew was how fuzzy he felt inside when Jensen had been impressed by the prank. He didn’t _need_ Jensen’s approval; he was a grown ass man and could do just fine without it. Independence didn’t mean he couldn’t like being praised, right?

It was almost eery how quickly abhorrence slipped into fondness. The transformation took place so consciously yet unstoppably in Jared’s chest that he wondered vaguely if he was being brainwashed. Jared hadn’t roofied him, but maybe Jensen had some kind of love potion. A spell was really the only logical explanation for the complete turn-around. 

No matter how hard he was apparently falling for this equally-handsome Jensen clone (because maybe _that_ was it), Jared wasn’t giving up without a few more verbal quips. He didn’t go down without a fight.

“You’re sure no ghosts?” he asked solemnly, swiveling his head around as they climbed up the bleacher staircase. He’d gone into a sort of infatuation-induced highway hypnosis and had nearly toppled off the stairs when he came back to reality.

Jensen rolled his eyes again, leading the way up to the tiny room above the players’ entrance. “It’s called the Ghost Box, Jared. There aren’t ghosts up here. It’s like the hot spot for kids to hook up during gym classes. A lot of moaning comes out of it, y’know? Ghosts?”

“Are there gonna be kids hooking up in here?” Jared asked in panic. “Because I don’t know what you’re into, but I’m more into appropriately aged m-”

“I told some kids in my summer school class that I used it. That spread around, and it’s mostly empty now, except for a few brazen hormone nightmares I have to swat away. But it’s Friday after school. No one’s in there.”

Jared’s eyes widened even further as he stopped in his tracks. “Are you taking me to your make out box?”

“Jared!” Jensen laughed indignantly. “I’m an adult. I take people back to my house, not a tiny closet above the football field.”

“Alright, alright,” Jared said sheepishly, continuing up the steps. “A guy can dream, can’t he?”

Jensen snorted and tugged on the door knob. “Wet dreams, I’m sure.”

“I think this is smaller than the closet in your classroom,” Jared remarked, searching around the tiny, cluttered room for something of interest. His gaze settled on the big curtain. “It’s like my grandma’s attic.”

“That’s exaggerating a little. And stay out of my closet,” Jensen answered over his shoulder as he fumbled for the light switch. “I grade in here sometimes.”

“In this tiny closet? What for?”

“Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

“What for, asshole?”

Jensen grinned. “Nice one. I’m just kidding. I don’t worry about grammar too much when I’ve… calmed down.”

“Glad you’ve calmed down,” Jared said sincerely.

Jensen made his way to the heavy curtain and started to heave it to the side. “Yeah. Me too.”

No verbal apology was made for past behavior, but the remorse hung in the air nonetheless. It was met with a silent forgiving and an inaudible momentary truce. Everything could wait for now.

When Jensen finally got the curtain aside, the room lit up further. A window spread over most of the far wall that overlooked the football field. “Get the light for me, wouldjya?”

Jared glanced up in confusion. “Uh, it’s on already.”

“Thanks, sailor. I meant off.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jared laughed, stretching out to flick off the light.

“I used to pick up guys like that when I was in my twenties,” Jensen chuckled shyly as he worked, shucking up the window and the screen. “‘Hey, sailor.’ It’s… not something I’m proud of.”

“What about picking up guys with it while wearing a pink and purple sweater?” Jared teased.

Jensen laughed begrudgingly and moved to the front of a full sized desk a few feet from the window. “Touché,” he agreed. “This isn’t a high point in my life. Sadly, not a low one either.” Grunting with effort, he shoved the desk forward with a short push. It slid smoothly against the wall and he turned around with a satisfied smirk. “You afraid of heights?”

“Not heights in particular. You, heights, and that crazy smile you’ve got? A little bit.”

“If you swoon, I’ll catch you,” Jensen promised, climbing on top of the desk. Its surface was just an eighth of an inch above the ledge of the window. He slung his feet out the window and sat solidly on the desk. Patting a hand to the spot next to him, he threw an inviting look over his shoulder. “You’re not… scared, are you?”

Jared wasn’t scared, damnit, of a window ledge. It was pretty high, but he could definitely balance himself. It was just his legs hanging over anyway, not half his body. He wasn’t scared at all! Then why were his hands so sweaty and shaking? Oh yeah. It was the flirty Jensen. 

Jared was up and dangling next to Jensen in no time. The silence stuck comfortably for a moment as they both looked out over the astroturf and white painted yard lines.

“Why?”

Jensen’s head shot up abruptly. “Why what?”

“Sorry,” Jared laughed. “I probably shouldn’t scare you when you’re halfway out a window.”

“I fell asleep up here one time. I’ll be alright.”

“Jesus. Don’t do that! I don’t wanna hear you died on the football field.”

“Why do you care? Emotional attachment?”

“To the football field. We paid a shit ton for that thing.”

“Do you curse in front of your students?”

“Maybe too much. Probably more than you do. Definitely more than Principal Morgan wants.”

“Can you not help yourself, or is there a reason?”

“Humanizing. Leveling. My dad used to be a manager of people who worked hands on at his job when I was growing up. He had to dress formally for the management level but he always wore khakis and polos. I asked him why he didn’t dress like his boss one time and he said he wanted the people who worked for him to know he wasn’t better than them. Still a person. Just more experience. I guess it’s kinda like that.”

Jensen looked down at their swinging feet and stayed quiet a second. “I like that,” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“That’s not how I teach. But I like it.”

“How do you teach?”

“Probably more uppity than you, Mr. One-of-the-Boys. I try hard not to blur the line between teacher and friend. So I can have my class discussions openly and maintain authority.”

“Hey, man. To each his own. You don’t have to justify it. As long as you’re not beating anyone. Actually, corporal punishment might be making a comeback. Just run with it.”

Jensen cracked a smile. “I’m glad to know I have your support when I decide to whip the ruler out.”

“You can even borrow mine.”

“I’m touched.”

“Mhm.”

“So what was the why about?”

Jared’s brow furrowed in confusion before he remembered. “Oh yeah,” he hummed. “Why have you calmed down?”

Jensen’s grin faltered. “Eh. I’m not a friendly guy. It’s a long story. Some other time. But I got some sense talked into me.” His expression grew friendly. “Just take it as it comes, alright?”

“Oooh.” Jared rubbed his hands together menacingly. “You come with issues too? Tragic backstory? God, I hit the jackpot.”

Jensen laughed despite his inner command not to. Jared and those dimples were compromising his neuro-systems or something. “I cry myself to sleep at night too, so… You should really jump on this train soon. Before it leaves the station.”

Jared pretended to fan himself. “You can’t just say things like that, Jensen. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

“God, shut up. Complete doof.”

“Right. Because I’m the one wearing a pink sweater.”

“It’s your fault!”

“No. Blame your sweet southern manners.”

“I was just being human.”

“If you were just being human, you would’ve taken it. A pretty southern belle would’ve put it on right away. Like you did.”

“...”

“Ha!”

Jensen flushed. “Whatever. How did that note go?”

It was Jared’s turn to blush profusely. Damnit. “Peachy keen.”

“Did you read it in class?”

“After. Colin was there when I read the first line.”

“Jesus,” Jensen laughed loudly, boom spreading out over the field. “Bet that was fun for you.”

“How did you get it to me?” Jared asked grouchily. “I mean, you can’t have given that to Colin and Madison on purpose.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“Jensen! What if they read it?”

“That’s a perk that comes with the firm line between teacher and friend. They’re a little bit afraid of me, a little bit in love with me. Respect, awe, terror. It’s a fine equation, sailor.”

“For Christ’s sake, man. I get seasick when I even look at a boat. Don’t call me that.”

“How about daddy?”

Jared nearly toppled out the window. “What did I say about scaring people while they hang off the edge of a building?” he roared.

Jensen leaned back as he cackled. “Right, right. No dirty names when we’re dangling.”

Another silence settled between them. The stretches of wordlessness were comfortable enough, especially for Jared. He wasn’t one to let spaces go without some thought ejected, no matter how stupid. Eventually, no matter how good an influence Jensen seemed to be on Jared’s verbal diarrhea (that’s what his mom called it, anyway. Sherri could not get her boy to shut up in 31 years of parenting), Jared broke the silence with the first thing that weighed heavily on his mind. “Is this a truce, then?”

Jensen looked over at Jared and the younger of the two returned the gaze. It was a little unsettling, the first time they’d both been looking simultaneously at each other since they climbed up to this death trap. “Is this sweater not a prank? Was it supposed to be an olive branch?”

“Oh, no,” Jared laughed. “That thing is definitely a prank. Even if I kinda want to see you wear it again.”

“Then I’m not done.”

Jared groaned and rolled his eyes. “Can’t we be done? Constant paranoia is exhausting.”

“It’s good for you. But I’ll stop if you admit I won.”

“No way! That’s not a truce.”

“Then we keep going.” 

“I feel like I’m in high school again.”

“We’re at a football field on a Friday night. You might as well be.”

“It’s not even football season! That doesn’t count!” Still, at the mention of their location, Jared glanced out to the bleeding colors of a beginning sunset. “That’s pretty cool,” he mumbled in awe.

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, face a little brighter with Jared’s approval. “It’s why I brought you up here.”

“That’s kind of gay.”

“And this sweater isn’t?”

“Touché.”

“So was this a good high school date or what?” Jensen teased with a grin.

“Yeah,” Jared agreed solemnly. “We’re going steady now.”

“Does that mean you’ll wear my letterman’s jacket?”

“Only on game days. And I’ll take you to prom.”

“I want a pink and purple corsage.”

“Why?”

“To match my new sweater.”

Jared giggled, an honest-to-god giggle. He might as well have been a high school girl at this point. “I had plans tonight,” he breathed out quietly.

“Oh,” Jensen said stiffly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha-”

“I wouldn’t have come with you if I was too concerned with it, Jen.”

“Jen?” Jensen scoffed. “As if. You’re not cute enough for that.”

“Who the hell’s cuter than me?!” Jared demanded indignantly. 

“My little sister and the dog I had when I was a kid.”

“That’s it?”

“Probably. Oh, and videos of pandas sneezing. That kind of stuff.”

“I can live with that.”

And Jared really could. He sighed contentedly and scanned the horizon line. The colors now matched closer to the hues of pink and purple on Jensen's shirt than the oranges and yellows of daylight. It was pretty late; he'd been up here a while. Genevieve and Katie were going to kill him, he knew. They'd made plans to catch up today. Jared was grateful the meeting had at least been at their place, so they hadn't gone out somewhere to get stood up. 

Even if they murdered him in cold blood, Jared was pretty sure it would be worth it. Besides, a little fabrication on the story of his romantic rooftop rendezvous with a dashing young philanthropist (reality: a casual, sweaty, butterfly-inducing encounter out a freaking window with some bitter, admittedly-handsome teacher he happened to tolerate) would have the pair swooning enough that they forgot all about his mistake. Until they needed to bring it up later and it bit him hard in the ass. 

He'd cross that bridge when he got to it. He was rather attached to this spot for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit 15k! I'm so happy with this story, and I had a lot of fun with this chapter.
> 
> Y'all keep commenting, even if you've done it before! I wanna hear your thoughts on everything.


	8. Electric Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one should let Jared near anything electric. Phones, computers, coffee pots… nothing.

“I’m sorry, Gen. I got caught up." Jared twisted the curled phone cord tighter and tighter around his finger as he spoke, a little nervous about the furious reaction he knew would follow.

"Oh, well if that's all," Genevieve groused bitterly. "I'm glad Katie and I wasted a solid Friday evening because you were caught up molding young minds. You know, you don't have to sell your soul for those kids."

"Well first of all," Jared argued, voice raising in irritation, "I do. They need me. And seco-"

"No," Gen cut off. "Katie doesn't spend all night at the hospital because a couple patients need their IV bags changed. She comes home to see me. And we go out. You can’t use school as an excuse to be antisocial. Old age has made you a grouch. People want to hang out with you."

Jared tapped his fingers against his counter, visibly annoyed. "Oh, okay," he huffed. "You just tell me how much effort I'm allowed to put into my job. Kids we knew in high school wanting to ‘get a beer’ with me should definitely take precedence over helping the future of America. Thanks, Gen. It's a wonder I didn't think to ask you before, since you apparently get the final say on everything."

When Jared got home late Friday night, tired judgment told him not to head over to Gen's place. Katie was probably working a late shift anyway, and Jared was beyond beat. The adrenaline coursing through his veins during every exhilarating and confusing second of that evening had taken its toll on his energy level. He shot Gen and Katie each an apologetic text message about heading to sleep and passed out on his mattress before turning down the sheets. He woke up at four in the morning, an early rising time even for him, with total confusion toward the clock. He checked his sent texts and realized it had only been eight o’clock when he fell asleep last night: Gen was definitely going to assume it was a lie. 

She was definitely a piece of work, that girl. 64 inches of judgment and sarcasm, sometimes she annoyed even Jared to death. She was loud and demanding, a shrew in every figurative sense of the term. All the yelling and selfishness, Jared could handle. His own signature mixture of brashness and sunshine made them undeniably explosive together. Their arguments were ear shattering and, as they had often been deemed in public, ‘disruptive’. When they fought, the grudges stuck for days and only dissolved when something more pressing came up to be argued about. Pitfalls and all, his friendship with Gen was important, and it was the only relationship Jared had that reminded him even vaguely of the animosity and amiability between him and Jensen. 

Jared met Genevieve in high school, playing for her affections throughout his sophomore year. Back then, the sexuality thing had all still been an undiscovered blur. A dare was a dare, no matter how often his attention started drifting to the male form. 

Genevieve Cortese, sly and pretty, was an upperclassmen. Everything about her potty mouth and nasty looks screamed the kind of danger Jared couldn't help consider a challenge. When his friends insisted he take her on a date, laughing and jeering that he couldn't bag a girl that pretty even if she were blind, he didn’t blink twice before commencing a chase.

Everything was going according to plan as his overt flirting and batting eyelashes seemed to stick the landing. Genevieve replied with no specifics, just the coy teasing that seemed to be a part of her infuriating yet interesting personality. By the end of the school year, Jared had her right where he wanted her (without a second thought to whether he actually _wanted_ her) when he went in for the kill and got back the most three most disappointing words to a teenage boy with a mission. 

"I'm a lesbian."

Resilient as he was, Jared bounced back quickly from both the rejection and the endless mocking from his friends. The one-sided flirting between him and Gen transitioned into an easy friendship after an explanation and apology from Jared's end. It wasn't long afterwards that the whole gay thing finally clicked in his head, and he was grateful that her acceptance was the first reaction he received on the news: "Well Jesus, Jared, that only took twice as long as it should've."

Gen and Katie had gotten together a few years ago and, despite a six year age gap, were a kind of perfect yin-tang. Katie was sweet and soft spoken, the only person whose gentle touch to the shoulder put Gen at ease instead of into worse hysterics. 

Jared had always been a little jealous of the relationship, his single-ness extending now into his thirties. Gen pestered him relentlessly about getting tied down to someone and a house, anything besides his job. Katie was more discreet and sweet in her support, as was her personality, but it was evident that both of them cared. They cared enough to make in abundantly clear: they thought he was crashing and burning in the dating game.

So when Genevieve spewed another few sentences of "you can't spend all your time in school if you want to settle down" and "I know you care about the kids, but you have to worry about yourself sometimes", Jared's subconscious knew the answer she wanted and decided to blurt it out over the top of her shrill mothering.

"I was on a date, okay?" he said exasperatedly. 

He thought the phone line went dead until a string of completely unladylike curses streamed into his ear through the speaker. The swearing didn’t shock him in the slightest; Genevieve’s language was not suitable for anyone but the worst of sailors and truckers. 

"A date?" she repeated, the only line of any meaning between her "shit", "fuck", and "goddamn"s.

"It's nothing serious!" he insisted immediately. The last thing he needed was for her to get carried away. As much as she tried to help, Gen had definitely scared an array of prospective dates away. She was admittedly getting less picky on who was worthy of Jared as they got older. It scared him a little. He wasn’t _that_ old. If anything, he was getting better with age. "And it wasn't a real date or anything."

"Jared, I'm just glad you talked to a human being besides me and Katie who’s older than 18."

"Who said he's older than 18?" Jared hummed suggestively. 

"Gross," Gen snorted. "God, shut up. You're disgusting."

"Alright," he relented with a sheepish laugh. "He's older than 18. Older than me, actually."

"So where'd you meet him? Match.com? E-harmony? FarmersOnly?"

Jared sucked back a laugh and shook his head. "Yes, Gen," he flatlined. "I met another teacher on FarmersOnly.com. Reeled him in with my combine."

"I feel like that's gay slang," Gen said suspiciously. "Wait, he's a teacher? Fuck, that's not gonna get you outta the house."

"It's not gonna get me outta school, either," he agreed. "He took me to the football field. Bastard thought it was romantic."

Gen groaned exaggeratedly and disappointedly into her receiver. "Another loser. But I thought there _was_ no meat at this school?"

"He’s not meat. He’s the one I hate. The jerk."

"The jerk?"

"The jerk."

"You went on a date with the jerk?"

"Not really a date."

“With the jerk?”

“God…” Jared muttered under his breath, headache starting behind his temple from the repetitive stupidity he was unfortunately a part of. “Yes, Gen!”

"What did you do?"

"Just sat and talked!"

"Really?" Gen asked doubtfully. 

"Well it was kinda flirty..." Jared admitted. 

"Now you're talkin'!"

"He called me daddy."

"Woah!" she yelled over the top of any sentiment Jared planned on sharing next. "What did we say about sharing dirty stories? It's only awkward."

"That's it! We didn't do anything."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm telling the truth."

A suspicious silence filled the line. 

"Alright,” she relented, “but you wanted to."

"I'm not gonna tell you what I wanted to do. That would fall under the 'dirty stories' category."

"Ooh, Jared," she laughed. "You dirty dog."

"It doesn’t matter. It's probably not gonna happen again."

"Oh, yes it is!" Gen grumbled difinitively. "Seriously, dude, this isn't my romantic side. I worry about you dying alone."

Jared snorted at Gen's complete lack of tact. "Gee, thanks."

"Well, I do!”

“I know. I’m gonna choke on a hot dog in my apartment and die because I’m alone.”

“I think the jerk’s there if you’re choking on a hot dog.”

“ _Gen!_ ” Jared cried indignantly, face red without transition. He was pretty used to blushing without warning nowadays. Blame a certain jerk and his hot dog. 

“Okay, sorry!” she cackled to herself. “But that was a good one.”

“No.”

“Well, whatever. You're handsome and giggly. It should not be that hard for you to get dates. You're grabbing this opportunity by the balls, even if it means you literally _grab him by the balls_. Do you hear me?"

Jared sighed heavily. As much as he hated giving in to Genevieve's arguments, she might have been right this time. Usually he'd assure her there were plenty of fish who wanted to swim with him, but Jensen seemed like a safe enough basket to place at least one egg in. He'd never admit it to either of them, but it had less to do with Gen's arguing than it did with wanting to grab Jensen by the balls. Metaphorically. "Yes."

"We can hang out next weekend. You call him. Today."

"That sounds kinda desperate."

"Trust me, if he made a move on you, he's desperate, too."

"Boy, I love these pep talks."

The rest of the phone conversation was short-lived; Genevieve wasn't remotely kidding about Jared getting in touch with Jensen today.

It was once the call was ended that Jared realized he didn’t actually have a direct line of communication to Jensen. They weren’t exactly friends, and most of their contact involved screaming face-to-face. They didn’t text, for God’s sake. 

Butterflies in his stomach, Jared went for his only option: email.

 

To: **jackles@ridgecrest.k12.edu**

Subject Line: **Are you sleeping in that sweater?**

_I bet you are. It probably smells like cats._

J. Padalecki

 

Jared fidgeted relentlessly in front of his laptop, getting up and sitting back down as he waited for a response. It was stupid to be so worked up over sending Jensen an email, but he’d only just gotten comfortable in their back-and-forth with the pranking. The flirting made him nervous to say the least, and his palms were completely drenched. Awesome.

He eventually settled into restless T.V. watching on his couch, drinking coffee (from his own machine; Jensen’s was stowed with his other appliances for safekeeping). It was when his heartrate finally started to slow when he saw a pop up window in the corner of his screen. 

A chatbox popped up, signalling they were both currently online. It was handy now, but irritating when Jared was emailing a teacher he didn’t particularly like. 

And boy, _that_ was an embarrassing thought. Jensen was a teacher he liked now?

**jackles:** _It’s ten in the fucking morning._

Jared snorted aloud, fumbling for the remote to mute his television set. This was going to be fully captivating if Jensen was already swearing. 

**jpadalecki:** _Yeah? I’m glad you know the numbers well enough to tell time now. Maybe I’ll teach you to count next week._

**jackles:** _Nuh-uh. No way. No fighting. No witty banter. It’s ten in the fucking morning!_

It took Jared another few moments of silence to understand this sentiment.

**jpadalecki:** _Were you still asleep? Christ, man. It’s ten._

**jackles:** _Were you up at 7 with the birds and the mice? Did they do your laundry and help you sew a dress, princess?_

**jpadalecki:** _Ooh, you’re cranky in the morning. I was up at 4, actually._

Ten minutes passed before a reply came. Jared began wondering if Jensen had fallen back asleep when another chime erupted from the speakers.

**jackles:** _You mean you went to bed at 4._

**jpadalecki:** _No. I went to bed at 8._

**jackles:** _Jesus Christ. No wonder you act like a big fat five year old._

**jpadalecki:** _A big,_ toned _five year old._

**jackles:** _Yeah, you’re gorgeous. Thanks for reminding me. Still too early for this shit. I can’t manipulate you at 10._

**jpadalecki:** _Oh, so you’re manipulating me? Good, so we’re even.  
When do you wake up usually, anyway?_

**jackles:** _11 is early for me._

**jpadalecki:** _Are you twenty? Are you clubbing at night? Why the hell would anyone sleep that late?_

**jackles:** _I’m not a morning person._

**jpadalecki:** _So does that mean coffee right now is out of the question?_

**jackles:** _Yes. Go away. I leave my emails vibrating on my phone in case a student needs me, not for your amusement._

**jpadalecki:** _No, shit. Stop. I don’t want to respect you or something._

**jackles:** _God forbid._

**jpadalecki:** _What if I bring you your coffee pot? You don’t even have to leave your place._

**jackles:** _The shocky one?_

**jpadalecki:** _Frayed cord and all._

**jackles:** _Okay. Give me a couple minutes. I look like death._

**jpadalecki:** _Doubtful, but alright._

**jackles:** _Was that almost a compliment?_

**jpadalecki:** _No. Shut up._

**jackles:** _Liar. I can’t do anything with my hair, and I don’t feel like shaving for you. So I guess I’m ready as ever for evil personified to pervade my home._

**jpadalecki:** _Cute. Text me your address. 430-815-3141. I’ll see you in hell._

Anxiously getting ready led to nervous driving, the path way to tensely waiting on Jensen’s doorstep. The flirting in his texts weren't an accurate representation of how flustered he really was. The quips came with rushes of adrenaline to his abdomen and beginnings of ideas he hadn't thought out nearly well enough. He was here, though, so he must have done something right. He looked around the exterior of the house. It was a lot nicer than Jared’s place: looked like someone lived here permanently. His eyes skipped over the flower pots by his feet and soon he was focused on the welcome mat’s text.

_Do you live here?  
(pick one)_

_Yes  
 **Welcome home.**_

_No  
 **What the hell do you want?**_

Jared was cackling out loud after the second readthrough. It was such an undeniably _Jensen_ welcome. It simultaneously put Jared on edge and relaxed him, and reminded him how out of his league and comfort zone he was right now. The front door swung open and with it lifted Jared’s gaze and attention.

Jensen, in all his pyjama, bedhead, unshaven, grumpy glory, had on the pink and purple sweater.

"G'morning, princess," he grunted roughly, stuttering a yawn as his arms stretched over his head. 

The thoughts that followed in Jared's head would surely end up in Gen's 'dirty' category and probably gave Jared a one way ticket to hell in a hand basket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading so far!
> 
> The smut, my good friends. You are soon to be rewarded. And again. And again. ;)
> 
> As always, please comment! It makes my heart happy.


	9. Soap Opera Garbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has never started with so much sexual tension and ended with so much disgust for Jared. He should've stayed home with the flu or something.

During those first few seconds in Jensen’s entry way, there was only one word for how Jared felt: he itched. The vibrating pads of his fingers itched to touch or grab or _anything_ as Jensen paraded around in an obnoxiously thin layer of pyjama bottoms. The material of his sweater was still as clingy as it had been the first day, and the body underneath still as sinfully visible. Noticing the matted and cowlicked hair, Jared's thoughts switched over to how he could muss up that hair just as well without so much as a blink or second to spare. The stubble (Notably unimpressive for a grown man. Jensen was a blond, though, so it was understandable.) roughened up the pretty lips and chiseled cheekbones, and it contrasted nicely with the thin, silver frames that rested slightly askew on the crooked bridge of his nose. And Jared?

Jared was going to pass out, probably.

Jensen was, obviously, good looking. Jared had noticed it before actually meeting the guy. It had only been since that damned note though, that he'd been unsuccessfully working to deal with the overwhelming attraction now plaguing his every waking moment. This discovery on the other hand, was something else entirely. Something about a domesticated Jensen, one in fuzzy sweaters who was awake simply because he was promised his coffee pot, was getting to Jared. Seeing an unruly monster calmed made him want to tame the beast himself. 

"The sweater doesn't smell like cats," Jensen said, too sleepy as he slumped against the wall to notice Jared having his own personal World War III in the entryway. 

"No?" Jared gulped out breathily, efforts to mask his discomfort pathetically fruitless. The single syllable was all he could muster up; he was proud he’d even made out that much.

"Smells a little like you."

God. Jensen needed to be quiet unless he wanted this to skip to date three in a matter of minutes. "And what does that smell like?"

"Some kind of cologne?" Jensen guessed. "Makes you smell like a distinguished benefactor."

Jared laughed out a breath of relief. If he focused on Jensen's knees and nothing else and Jensen stayed appropriate, he would be okay. At least, that was until he noticed the little bowing in Jensen's legs. It struck him that simply everything about this man was either hot or endearing, and it had his palms exponentially more slick than usual. "That's not so bad."

"I like it," Jensen purred, stepping into Jared's personal space in a few quick strides. Jared could source it to that moment when the air rushed from his lungs like a punctured balloon.

"Jesus. It's ten in the morning," he said weakly. 

"Closer to eleven, actually," Jensen chuckled. "You took your sweet time getting over here."

Jared had a resting body temperature of about a degree higher than average. He sweat almost constantly and wore a ridiculous number of layers. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, and once or twice he burnt his hand on the stove. They lived in Texas, with the sweltering summers that put saunas to shame. Jared was no stranger to warmth.

No past temperature could compare to the heat radiating in the few inches between him and Jensen. All the pranks and shouting matches had led up to this very moment when Jensen pressed up against Jared's torso, leaned up on tiptoes, and whispered into his ear:

"Where's my coffee pot?"

Jared sputtered indignantly, having been so certain all the fighting between them was finally coming to a much needed peak. Even with Jensen's informal and decidedly nonsexual question, Jared's body was still more worked up than it had any right to be. His dick was such a traitor sometimes. "Your coffee pot?" he hissed. 

Jensen threw his head back and cackled, a full body laugh filling the whole entry way. "Oh, sweetheart," he hummed condescendingly. "You didn't think I was that easy, did you?"

"This whole thing has been far from easy," Jared bickered, stepping back a little and crossing his arms. It was a visible signal of disdain, annoyance with Jensen for manipulating him so cleanly, but it also served as a hopefully subtle tactic to give himself room to breath and his body space to calm down.

“You have been working awfully hard,” Jensen tutted in sympathy. Crossing his arms in a mocking mirror image of Jared’s agitated stance, he shook his head sadly. “But I require a little more wooing. Seducing. Courting. What have you.”

“We’ve been at this for three years,” Jared reminded him flatly.

Jensen grinned fondly, expression twisting into something reminiscent of nostalgia for their early fights. “Ah, yes,” he agreed. “But you’ve only just earned my respect. First with the equal payback instead of primitive screaming. Now the sweater thing has me quite interested in what else you can do.”

Hearing Jensen be an ass was doing wonders for the sexual tension that apparently only Jared was having a hard time dealing with. The smug look didn’t send him over the deep end into irrepressible anger like it usually did, but nothing got the blood from his crotch to his brain better than good old-fashioned irritation. “If I remember correctly,” he challenged, finally gaining enough control of himself to argue at full capacity, “it’s your turn. I kicked your ass last time. You took me on a date. Unless the prank was how little fun I had…”

Jensen inhaled sharply and clutched his gut through the fuchsia and violet fuzz. “That one hit me right where it smarts, Padalecki.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jared laughed with an inevitable eye-roll. “Just hurry up and screw with me again so I can-”

“Screw me?”

“I was gonna say ‘whip your ass into girly submission’, but whatever lets you sleep at night.”

“Ah, but what lets me jerk off when you leave? That’s what I’ll be focusing on.”

Jared ignored his flush and embarrassment to continue the bickering. He was fighting tooth and nail until this battle was through, and Jensen only had himself to blame. “Well, whack it without your coffee.”

Jensen’s eyes widened in concern, and Jared was stifling a laugh until he realized how green they still were without contacts in. “Without my coffee?”

“You don’t wear colored contacts?” Jared blurted without warning.

“Colored contacts?” Jensen repeated blankly, taken aback until his question was forgotten for the moment. 

“Yeah.”

“No? I’m not a rich white lady. Or the werewolf in the Thriller video.”

“That was Michael Jackson!”

“Yeah, Jared. I’m not Michael Jackson.”

Jared was far from convinced and took a tentative step forward to confirm the denial. “But I mean… they’re so green.”

“My eyes?” Jensen asked quietly, taking an uncharacteristically intimidated step back.

“No, your snot.”

Just like that, the intimidation dissolved and was replaced by a reluctant chuckle. “You’re an idiot, kid. Yeah, my eyes are green.”

“Kid?” Jared made a face. “That might be worse than sailor.”

“Well what do you want me to call you? You’re shooting down all my best nicknames.”

“Sweetheart? Honey? Lover dear?”

“I’ll pass. How about Snot?”

“Better Half?”

“Booger?”

“Sugar?”

“Not bad. Would that make me sound too much like a ‘50s diner waitress?”

“I’m actually only attracted to guys who make me feel like I’m in a ‘50s diner. That’s why I do sock hops and wear saddle shoes on the weekend.”

“It is the weekend, genius,” Jensen snorted. “You have on… boots.”

“Shocking to you?”

“No. Hot? Maybe.”

“Not hot enough for you to be easy?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Fine,” Jared relented, letting out an over-exaggerated sigh. “But I’m not bringing you the coffee pot.”

“Now wait a second!” Jensen exclaimed in sudden boiling anger. “I thought I was gonna get my shocky coffee!”

“And I thought I was getting laid,” Jared said with an indifferent shrug. “We both had disappointing Saturday mornings.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Oh, I try. I’m gonna leave now.”

“Do it.”

“Because this isn’t worth my time if there’s no sex or pranking.”

“Good. I don’t want you in here if I don’t have my good coffee. I was even gonna let you have some.”

“I like sweet coffee.”

“Get out!” Jensen hissed venomously, taking personal offense for coffee everywhere at Jared’s stupidity.

Jared, meanwhile, boomed happily as he headed back down the couple front steps. “Prank me already!” he called over his shoulder from the end of Jensen’s pathway. “Makes me feel tingly.”

“Revenge is a dish best served cold!”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Jensen seemed to be screeching back another quip but Jared had already shut the door. He was quite proud of himself for turning the situation around and pinning the red-in-the-face terror, embarrassment, and tension on Jensen.

Jared had this whole thing in the bag.

*

“So?”

Jared’s face felt flushed at the question. It had no explanatory precursor, but he knew exactly what Genevieve wanted to hear more about as she impatiently jiggled her knee in his living room. Katie sat nearby with a look of genuine interest that, despite its gentler proceedings, put him just as much on edge of Gen’s restlessness.

“It’s going good,” he said finally. 

“Yeah?” Gen asked, eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

Jared broke into an all-consuming grin. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I just haven’t been talking about it. Thinking about it in this feelings way. Just been doing it.”

“God!” Gen uttered in disgust, holding up her hands in the air to stop the story. “I told you, I don’t want to hear-”

“I told _you_ , nothing else has been happening.”

Gen was too caught up in the idea of Jared starting to brag about his sex life to continue. “What’s going good then?” Katie asked quietly. “Not that things can’t go well without, y’know…”

“I know what you mean,” Jared assured, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s just been… flirting, I guess? I told him last weekend that I only like sweet coffee. He nearly took my head off for it. You know, the awful sugar stuff I’ve been inhaling at donut places since high school.”

“That shit made you such a spaz,” Gen interjected, collected enough to rejoin the conversation. 

“Still does. But Jensen… man, he hates it. He takes his coffee so black that he might as well be drinking tar. On principle, he wants to confiscate coffee from me indefinitely, until I figure out that his stuff is better.”

“Yeah, he still sounds like an ass.”

“He brought me coffee. All week. My coffee.”

Gen and Katie shared a look of some kind of lesbian telepathy Jared didn’t even bother trying to crack. “That’s sweet, Jared,” Katie said when her eyes returned to Jared. “Gen threatens to spit in my food if she doesn’t like the way I take it.”

“Scrambled eggs, Katie,” Gen said exasperatedly. “Come on. Tastes like rubber. You deserve better eggs.”

Jared rolled his eyes, smiling to himself as he continued. “He stops by my classroom all the time. And I go down there. I know there’s no reason for him to be upstairs. Besides me.”

“Have you gone on a date yet? Like, one where he didn’t skimp out and take you to a football field?”

“I don’t think it’s skimping out. I would’ve paid if he tried to take me anywhere.”

“Aw, boys fighting over checks,” Gen crooned teasingly.

“When Gen and I went on dates, we just stared at the check until some man at another table offered to pay if we let him watch,” Katie laughed.

“We still do that,” Gen asserted solemnly, fingers entwining mindlessly through Katie’s golden locks. “This princess and I have never had to pay for a meal.”

“I’d pay for you if that meant you stopped caressing each other on my couch,” Jared offered.

“The story!” Gen shrieked, more than tired of the large pauses in narrative. “Jesus Christ, hurry it up. Katie’ll be our age before you’re done telling us everything. And I’ll be almost forty when she’s our age. I’ll have conniptions if you make me think about being forty, Jared! I swear to God!”

“Fine! Relax. No real dates. I just… I like it how it is. I don’t even think he’s going to prank me back. He’s gone soft.”

“Hopefully he hasn’t gone soft,” Gen mumbled, “cuz then you’re never gonna get to have s-”

“That’s enough of that, Miss Vulgarity,” Katie said, hand resting on Gen’s shoulder to shut her up. “You’re witty about sex. We all know. You’ve impressed us for years. Time to hang it up.”

Gen pouted out a lower lip and her eyes widened in an almost cartoonish display of “puppy eyes”. In the middle of Katie’s explanation of how that look “wouldn’t work” and it “never did”, Jared heard the phone ring and was instantly filled with gratitude for an excuse to run away from the affectionate tangling of legs between the couple. He hadn’t seen Jensen since yesterday afternoon, and it was like watching someone else smoke while you tried to quit.

“Jared Padalecki,” he answered as enthusiastically as one can answer a phone call on a Saturday evening.

“Jared, we need to talk,” rumbled the deep growl of Principal Morgan’s voice. As much as Jared had gotten along with the gruff man up until now, Jeff’s tone reeked of bad news. 

“Is it important, Jeff? I’ve got company and-”

“I’m afraid so.” Shit.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“I’ve gotten some complaints about a recent test from one of your classes.”

Jared nodded. “Yes, sir. I know the class you’re talking about. Everyone did poorly. I’d offer a retest, but I offered them more than a fair number of chances to ask questions. They claimed to understand it, but they didn’t put the effort in. I’m going back over the chapter so they understand the concepts, but I think the grades need to stay. They earned them, they made the mistake.”

“They didn’t make the mistake, Jared. You did.”

Jared’s brow crinkled into confusion when he heard no follow up. “I did? I know the Scantron tests don’t work sometimes, so I put the test through the machine twice when the scores came back so low."

"Then your key must've been wrong. Students came by your class during your planning period to discuss questions they'd clearly gotten right, and you weren't there. So now I'm your secretary, Padalecki. That's not gonna work for me."

Jared felt a pang of guilt like an ugly jerk in his abdomen. He'd been in Jensen's classroom during planning period. 

"My key can't have been wrong," Jared insisted. 

"Then maybe you put it in upside down!" Jeff cut out sharply. "Because damnit, Jared, if you're stupid enough not to be available after so many kids failed your test, I wouldn't put money on you knowing which direction a Scantron goes!"

Clutching at the counter to keep his balance, Jared felt his throat tighten as his eyes burned and vision blurred. He couldn't have screwed up this bad. He was _good_ at his job, unless…

"Yes, sir," Jared said, tone completely emotionless as he felt another punch of bad feeling to his gut. He wished it was still guilt, because betrayal stung so much worse. "I'll regrade the tests. Manually."

"Are you sure you can handle that, Jared?" Jeff asked testily. "I don't need Brock Kelly in here, threatening to call his daddy unless you regrade his test! Do you know how much Mr. Kelly has given to this school? Do you know what happens to you if you get Brock Kelly on your bad side? Preppy little snot or not, he's just as much in charge of you as you are of him."

"Yes, sir," Jared chorused for what felt like the hundredth time. "I don't know what happened, but I'll be three times as careful from here on out." He wasn't exactly sure why he wasn't telling the truth, why he was covering for the sorry ass that got him into this mess, but the protection came natural after the past week. Probably all part of his evil plan. 

"Fix it," Jeff said abruptly, followed instantly by the buzz of a dead line. 

Jared held the phone to his ear through the irritating white noise as hurt transitioned so seemlessly into blinding rage. It was clear what had happened; Jensen's side of pranking had been silent for a week. The asshole had even told Jared he was manipulating him, and Jared hadn't listened. The sweet crows feet and perfectly tousled hair had trapped him just like Jensen knew they would. 

Jared eventually hung the phone back up on the hook and slammed his fist on the counter harder than he intended. "Gah!" he cried, cradling the throbbing fist to his chest. 

"Jay?" Gen called from the living room. "You alright?"

"No!" Jared growled back before slumping down against the cabinet and grunting when his ass hit the floor. 

Gen and Katie came into the kitchen with matching looks of concern, worry growing on each delicate face when Jared's vulnerable position was noticed. 

Gen crouched down until she was Jared's level, though admittedly she wasn't that far above him when she was standing. "Jay, kid, what's the matter?" she inquired as gently as she could.

"Jensen _fucked_ me."

Gen got up suddenly and buried her face into Katie's shoulder, knowing that Jared meant something serious but unable to keep a straight face to help him. 

"What happened, Jared?" Katie asked, taking over Gen's responsibilities without skipping a beat. 

"Jensen fucked me over bad, Katie," Jared gritted out bitterly. "He, god…"

"It's alright, man," Gen muffled from Katie's blouse. "Just tell us. Even if it's a dirty story."

"He switched my Scantron sheets. I asked him to take the answer key down to the teachers' lounge for me. Thought it was sweet when he did it." Jared couldn't contain his sour laugh. "Sweet, my fucking ass. He switched it. I know he did. All my students failed. I was…" His eyesight flickered down to his lap. "Heartbroken," he finished. "Thought I'd done a bad job of the chapter. I just did a bad job at keeping my guard up. The principal chewed me out. I nearly fucked up the kid's GPA whose dad runs the damn school. Another crack up that’s actually my fault and… I'll be screwed."

"Wow," the couple echoed together after a moment of stunned silence. The three in the room were at a loss for words. Gen, usually one for trouble with empathy and avoidance of feelings altogether, had a pain in her chest she couldn't quite explain. Katie felt nauseous to see such an accepting friend, someone she'd grown accustomed to being bubbly through anything, so torn apart about someone she and Gen had encouraged him to go after. 

And Jared? Jared was pissed. 

"Yeah," he agreed maliciously. "Wow."

“What are you gonna do?” Gen asked finally, turning around to face Jared again.

“Make him cry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm proud of how long this one took me, and I'm glad to finally get you some drama.  
> I hope you had fun (although I'm sure you all hate me now).
> 
> Next chapter is going to be UGLY. Hold on tight.  
> And I love comments, y'all know the drill. Go ahead even if you're angry with me and Jensen :)


	10. We've All Been Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared doesn't know what to say anymore. Jensen is totally lost. 
> 
> Oh, c'mon guys. Just read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. School started up and it's a pain in the ass to have time, motivation, and inspiration all at up. It isn't proofread very well since I wanted to get it out to you, but I hope y'all will like it.

Even with his daily allotted coffee consumed, Jensen never really got out of his morning funk. Some might argue, as his friends, family, and students so often did, that a morning mood extending past noon was just a grouchy personality. Jensen maintained that he would be an absolute delight if school didn’t prevent him from a good sleep schedule. Ridgecrest’s start time was rigidly ingrained into the school system and he ignored all suggestions from loved ones to turn in earlier at night. The battle between his permanent night owl ways and the almighty power of the school board was an unflinching stalemate that left him a tetchy morning person. It was just something he lived with, and nothing he planned on changing any time soon. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, either Jensen had begun clocking out closer to a regular hour than 2 in the morning or he’d found what must certainly have been a powerful alternative to fixing his alarm clock. He wasn’t lollipops and rainbows by any means, but there was a cheerful spring in his step that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

Jensen wasn’t aware of the excess happiness, if a little extra pep could be stretched that far, and the people who knew him had no idea the cause. To anyone with all the information, however, the answer was pretty simple: Jensen was as happy as a pig in shit with Jared.

Of course, they weren’t really _together_. He knew that. He was an adult, for crying out loud, and he was well aware that a few coffee breaks together weren’t dates. On the surface, it would seem like they were no more than cordial co-workers. He wasn’t dating Jared anymore than he was dating any other teacher he could tolerate enough to spend down time with, but the giggling, blushing, and sexual innuendo their breaks were stuffed with definitely defined the friendship as something more than the terse chats with acquaintances. Even if they were preceded by a really cool, flirty evening in the sunset, planning periods weren’t romantic. It was no big deal. Just because Jensen wanted them the be dates, that didn’t mean they were. 

He’d always gotten a little too attached though, and knew how it felt to be burned by that. It was inevitable, really. Jared was a warm, friendly puppy to Jensen. Eager to please, energetic to the point of annoyance and fondness, eyes that wide when he got smacked in the nose with a newspaper. It would only make sense if he couldn’t help but sniff around every crotch in Texas, too. It wasn’t a fair assumption to make, and Jensen knew that, but his mind couldn’t help make the jump. One day he was going to wander into Jared’s classroom with coffee and a dopey grin to find Jared fucking Misha against the wall or Jeff over the desk.

It was a pretty heavy digression from the point his thoughts had stemmed from (that things were going relatively well), but Jensen was used to aberrant and self-destructive thinking like that. It didn’t depress him like delving into all worst case scenarios did for most people. Since the dismal past Jared had found oh-so promising, Jensen was more prone to worrying.

Even with the idea of Jared screwing a different coworker running through his mind, Jensen couldn’t let good mood wouldn’t dissolve. It was too much good with their banter and favors to be overshadowed by the hypothetical bads. Maybe Jared was making him soft, but he didn’t really care.

Tendency to mentally prepare himself for the worst possible outcome could have never prepared him for the awful kick of adrenaline he felt when he stood outside his classroom Monday morning. A sign flapped on the door, crudely taped with easily recognizable handwriting that had Jensen clutching at the door handle for support. 

  
  
**a competent teacher  
 _classified;_ looking to hire a new teacher  
** no need for any qualifications  
no brain function still beats current position holder  
applicant must not totally waste students’ time or completely prohibit any intellectual growth with own stupidity/selfishness 

It didn’t sting, that overwhelming pain that seeped through Jensen’s core to his his appendages like poison. The agony wasn’t sharp like he would’ve expected, but it ached. The intensity was blinding, but he felt dull and hollow at the same time. He’d felt the same pain before, but now it hurt just a little different. Like banging the same bruised shin against the coffee table, he couldn’t take comfort in the familiarity or solace in the change. It just _sucked_.

The hurt lasted for what seemed like eternity as Jensen tried not to think about what had gone wrong. He knew he’d tell himself that Jared didn’t know what this kind of thing meant to him, but it simply wasn’t true. Jared had attacked Jensen’s teaching skills before and gotten results; it was the quickest way to piss him off. Maybe he didn’t know the cause, but Jared sure as hell knew the effect and went for it anyway. Perhaps because of it. Jensen wasn’t sure about anything with the nausea bouncing off the walls of his brain, but he knew Jared did this on purpose. Because it got to him.

And, _god_ , did it get to him.

He still hadn’t gone into the classroom, just stayed in the hall stewing in his own increasing anger. 

He was a good teacher, dammit, and he didn’t know why this kept happening to him. He was _good_! The kids listened to him, passed standardized tests without flying colors.

“Son of a bitch!” he growled aloud. 

Jensen didn’t have words for the emotion welling in his chest. THe only part of his feelings that manifested into a coherent thought was how bad he wanted to fuck Jared up. The daggering words were already trying to spill from his lips without the absolute ass even within earshot.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jensen was stomping up the stairs to Jared’s classroom. It was early and he was grumpy, but he wanted complete privacy in telling Jared off. He wanted every sting to come solely from his own insults. The burning shame of embarrassment couldn’t overshadow the weight of hatred that was completely his own. He got a little poetic through uncontrollable rage hit him apparently. He wasn’t used to this kind of passionate fury. It was more characteristic of-

He didn’t want to so much as think the name, didn’t need J-A-R-E-D ping-ponging across his line of vision. He needed immediate relief from the anger and hurt that dug in so aggressively against his temple, and he was going to get it where it was “like him” or not.

It wasn’t long before he was howling bodily into Jared’s classroom. He slammed the door and turned the lock, ignoring the look of terror that flashed over Jared’s face from over in his chair before it settled into stony indifference. 

“What do you w-”

“Cut the shit,” Jensen hissed venomously. His head throbbed with every twinge of that sweet Texas twang. “You are… worthless.”

The curve and twist of Jared’s features gave away exactly what he was thinking, something Jensen had started to realize as their familiarity grew. Ha! What a joke that was. It had everything to do with that stupidly explosive personality of his, the wearing his heart on his sleeve that Jensen found endearing. Well, used to. 

Jensen had only ever seen the expression he was now met with as a joke. 

“You’re such a spaz,” he’d say.

Jared’s confident smirk would twist into a pretty little moue that, joking or not, would inevitably tug at Jensen’s heart strings. 

“No, I’m not!” Jared would whine in protest. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Jensen would snort.

It wasn’t like that now. The transition to a pout was just as seamless and the look was just as pretty, but the unadulterated pain that radiated from it was almost enough to make Jensen feel guilty. An apology was on the tip of his tongue until the heavy text of HELP WANTED drifted back into the forefront of his mind.

“That was a pathetic attempt to get to me. You are pathetic.”

Jensen didn’t feel bad as long as the orange block letters burned into his eyelids. 

“Alright!” Jared snapped. “I get it.”

“I don’t care if you get it. You don’t get anything. You’re an imbecile.”

“Stop!”

“I can’t believe they let you teach children.”

“Jensen!”

“You make me sick. I’m so much better than you, do you know that? You don’t know anything, but maybe you’ve been able to glean that from how glaringly obvious it is.”

Verbal interjections clearly weren’t working for Jared because Jensen’s cutting insults just kept barrelling forward like a semi without brakes. Before he knew what he was doing, Jared was out of his chair and had Jensen pinned to the wall. Hands clutching furiously at the plaid collar (notably not the pink sweater), the younger between them was trying to reign in the tremoring rage and ragged breathing that punched from his lungs. “You’re not better than me,” he growled desperately. His eyes were wide and frantic, searching all over Jensen’s face for even a spark of recognition. Where was his sweater guy? This was the guy who nearly got him fired.

“Don’t touch me,” Jensen grunted, palms hitting flat against Jared’s chest as he shoved him back. “You don’t deserve to touch me.”

Jared faltered back a step, that puppy dog hurt settling over his features for another second before her revved back into default anger. 

He had Jensen with his back against a poster covered in digits of pi again before either of them could blink. The erratic breathing was shared now, the irregularity of heavy panting doing nothing to quell the heat between them. 

“Am I using too big of words for you, Caveman?”

Not doing much to prove Jensen wrong, Jared responded with an animalistic grunt. “You’re not better than me,” he repeated. 

“You already said that, you worthless piece of tra- ah!”

The snarking slipped into a slack-jawed moan when Jared wedged a thigh up between Jensen’s legs. 

“Shut up,” Jared said sharply. “Just shut up. I’m so tired of hearing you talk. If you don’t…” He left the threat open with a menacing look.

“I’m not your number one fan, either.” The retort would’ve came off as more intimidating if Jensen’s voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of it.

“Quit,” Jared knew his orders weren’t working but the upward grind of his thigh muscle shut Jensen up a lot more efficiently.

Even without speaking, Jensen knew he was making too much noise. Jared had his damn thigh grinding up like a… He didn’t know. Similes and metaphors used more blood pumping to the brain than he had available.

“ _You_ quit,” he said finally. If the sharp intake of breath that followed was anything to go by, he might as well have saved his breath. He was in no position to order anyone around. 

“Just shut your mouth for once,” Jared gritted out through a tight jaw. “Do you know how annoying it is to hear how great you are all the time coming from that stupid, pretty mouth?”

Jensen’s lips curled into a smirk before Jared’s fingers wrapped around his jaw and crushed the smug grin away. 

“Don’t even start,” Jared warned. “God, just…” Too preoccupied with getting Jensen quiet, he wasn’t totally aware how hard and needily his lower half was pressing up. “Don’t.”

“What if I want to?” Jensen hummed teasingly, grabbing a quick and desperate hold onto the last tactic he had for gaining any kind of control. ‘Calm and collected’ clearly wasn’t the answer. 

“Don’t,” Jared repeated curtly, gruffness in his voice a pretty clear tell that he didn’t mean what he said. 

Jensen’s hands found themselves sliding around Jared’s waist. “Are you angry, Mr. Padalecki?” he cackled softly. 

“You don’t get to be in charge!” Jared asserted in a wall-shaking boom, sending Jensen reeling a bit. “You’re not better than me. I’m younger and smarter and _bigger_.” Another hard roll of the hips had a quiet whine escaping Jensen’s throat. Jared took the opportunity to launch an attack on Jensen’s belt buckle.

“I- Jared! Fuck,” he breathed softly, digging his fingers into Jared’s hips through the stiff material of light blue oxford. “God, I hate you...” he moaned reluctantly, eyes slipping shut and head lolling back to the wall.

“Oh, believe me,” Jared choked out in a bitter laugh. “Not even close to how much I hate you.” The outsurge of power felt good under his fingertips; he was relieved to finally assert some sort of control over Jensen, who deserved to be smacked and pounded and God-only-knew what else. He tugged down Jensen’s khakis until his own thigh was stopping him from pulling them any further. 

Jensen knew the battle was lost, that Jared’s flat palm both soothing and tantalizing over the ache of his crotch felt too good for him to gain any upper hand now, but he wasn’t going to lose without a few digs sticking the landing. His mouth fell into line with the curve of Jared’s shoulder as the latter worked doggedly to get Jensen cumming in his pants as fast as possible. Bastard. Jensen bit hard, sucking viciously as his arms curled up possessively in an embrace around Jared’s neck. This was his, no matter what he imagined would happen with Misha or Jeff: Jared was his to destroy.

It was working pretty well; Jared’s voice was absolutely wrecked when he let out another useless “don’t”. The refrain was getting old to Jensen. Jared didn’t want him to stop peppering kisses to the quickly discoloring hickey, but he demanded that Jensen let go of his last bit of snark. He couldn’t just pick and choose which parts he wanted, especially when he had an easy chance to get it gently or whatever, before that sign had gone up. And _fuck_ , was he mad again. 

“If you’re gonna do this, just fuckin’ _do_ it, coward,” Jensen cut out dryly, hot breath tumbling from his lips as he spoke and trailing not far behind the nips and licks up Jared’s jawline. 

Growling, Jared could feel vibrations in the back of his throat, reverberating against Jensen’s lips along that antagonizing path of affection. He was a lot of things, but Jared wasn’t a coward. His mouth crashed against Jensen’s without much time for either of them to think. Humming greedily, Jensen swept his tongue in before Jared could protest or fight for his own dominance. They both gripped restlessly at each other, Jensen looking for purchase to grind down harder and Jared still groping Jensen through thin cotton. Too equal for either of them to be satisfied. Both bruised, but neither in control.

When the balance registered in Jared’s head (and he needed a break on how long it took him; he was a little busy, after all), he felt a suddenly primal need to rectify it. Big, warm hands slipped under Jensen’s thighs as Jared hoisted him up flush against his body. Jensen let out a loud moan, too far gone for the idea of other teachers most likely also showing up early to enter his mind. Instead, he scraped his teeth along the marks on Jared’s neck with a purr. 

Having been distracted by trying to resume the grinding while holding Jensen up, Jared let out a yelp of surprise at the sensation, stumbling back a little until he almost rolled his ankle on the wheel of his chair. He regained his balance and staggered the few feet to the white board. Jensen’s back now pressed against a series of fairly simple equations written in Expo, Jared felt satisfied enough to start tugging down Jensen’s boxers.

When the heat of Jared’s palm and thick fingers wrapped loosely around Jensen’s suddenly freed cock, the older man let out a hiss of relief. His hips jumped with the anticipation and Jared’s wrist started to flick instinctively. 

Jensen scrambled desperately for the button on Jared’s jeans, fumbling with the mechanics until he could pull down the offending garment, all while groaning into Jared’s skin. His hand dove without hesitation beneath the waistband of Jared’s boxers.

“Fuck,” Jared moaned suddenly, heady whines suddenly spilling from his throat. The moment’s pause gave Jensen the chance to shuck both of their bottom layers down further.

Jared, frustrated at having let Jensen distract him so easily, grabbed both of the freckled wrists with the hint of a smirk. “Nuh-uh,” he huffed.

Jensen’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open to get out another quip. Before the words could roll of his tongue, Jensen felt his hands yanked suddenly above his head, pinned to what looked like a jumble of numbers, letters, and symbols. Of course even sex with Jared had too much math. 

It wasn’t that much of a turn off though, because he couldn’t bring himself to complain when Jared pressed his hips down against Jensen. Their eyes met for what seemed like the first moment since they’d started this and Jensen could read the endgame their easily: Jared was getting off with this move.

Right on cue, Jared’s hips started to move, rolling against Jensen with ease. Their cocks lined up a little sloppily but the precome Jared was leaking like a faucet had every nerve of Jensen’s paying close attention. It was surreal to be so angry at someone and get relief like this, dicks jerking and grinding in desperate need to spurt all over each other. The combination of sexual stimulation and the strange emotional vulnerability made Jensen, no matter how good it felt, need it to end. 

“C’mon,” he urged, mocking unmistakingly twinging at his voice. “I told you I was gonna jerk your pretty cock off, didn’t I? Didn’t know you were gonna leak this much, but hell. I’d do it in a heartbeat. You gonna lollygag all day or you gonna get me to come?”

“Why?” Jared sneered back. “Do you need it? Need to come?”

“No.”

“Have I got you so worked up, sweetheart?” he continued to growl. “Need to blow your load? All you gotta do is say please.”

Jensen was bucking wildly against Jared, frustrated beyond belief at the restraint on his hand. It turned him on, if he was being honest, to be be held back like that, but not if Jared wasn’t going to _do_ anything. “Please!” he cried finally, orgasm starting to curl in the pit of his stomach as his thighs shook. “Pretty please, let me come. God, Jared, just harder!”

It was pathetic and Jensen was well aware, but the pleading went straight to Jared’s cock. His head fell against Jensen’s shoulder as he gripped his waist with a free hand and humped down until the broken moans in the back of his throat started to grow louder.

“Fuck, yes,” Jensen hissed, working up as Jared continued to push. “C’mon, sugar, just fuck me right over the edge, yeah…”

Jared felt the heat squirm up in his gut, growling and thrashing against Jensen while he came, doing just what Jensen asked and letting out whimpery admissions of the guy’s name as his mouth gaped open and a shudder runs through his whole body.

Jensen was close behind, shooting his load all over the already dripping head of Jared’s dick as he called out to him. “Oh god, Jay, I- ah- gonna, shit!”

Jared was still riding a heavy wave of aftershock when Jensen slumped down under his weight. His sweaty palms pried off bruised, bony wrists as they both started emerging from the haze of what they would never admit felt _great_.

And _what the fuck just happened?_

“Oh god,” Jensen huffed aloud. 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That happened. 
> 
> Comment! So sorry for leaving you hanging. Maybe this made up for it.


End file.
